From the Pages of the Bebop
by phoenix521
Summary: Through a series of journal entries, follow the crew of the Bebop as they try to save one of their own, as he spirals into an abyss of addiction. Rated for language. Give it a try, what's the worse that could happen?
1. Prologue: I'm An Addict

**Author's Beginning Note: Hello all. I come to you with my first non-song inspired fic (we'll leave it at that…). So you know, this is a post rfb's fic. I know, I know…Spike died, blah, blah, blah; but bear with me, here. Let's just say that Spike survived by the skin of his teeth, and after finding his self alive, things go downhill, fast.**

This fic deals with rough subject matter. Spike goes through a lot of stuff, and subsequently takes the Bebop along for the ride. Since this is a post rfb's fic, please don't get mad if the characters are a bit ooc at times...it happens.

I guess that's it for my pre-fic spiel. Oh, and to let you know (in case you cared), I actually did do research for this fic. I looked up Spike's problem so I could make things more believable for you, the reader, so I hope you can see that extra bit of effort. So now, that's it. Read, review, and most of all: enjoy! And if you review, no flames, please. Constructive criticism? Sure. But rudeness for the sake of rudeness never helped anyone. Well then, on with the story!

-phoenix521

Prologue: I'm An Addict _

* * *

April 17, 2072_

_Who would ever think that I'd sit down and write shit in a book of blank pages? Isn't this something that moody teen girls do? Ah well, fuck it I guess. I'm doing this for that damned shrew. I tend to do a lot of things for her. I should have told her 'no'; told her to go get a bounty or something. (She still owes me about 3.000 woolongs.) But she comes to me with those puppy dog eyes of hers and asks me to "write down my feelings" and I do. But I guess I'm doing this for me, too. I know I'm falling apart. I know I'm deconstructing. And I think I'm doing a bang up job at it, too. So, I guess out of morbid curiosity, I wanna put what I'm doing into words…shit, how corny does that sound? Give me a pen and some paper and I turn into fucking Shakespeare._

_But like I was saying, I guess it'd be interesting to look back and see what I was going through. Is that weird? To want to remember how I fucked up? Then again, I doubt I'll ever have the chance to go back and read this crap. I actually shouldn't be here writing right now. I should be dead. I finally face my past, and all I got was this crummy journal. Julia: dead. Vicious: dead. Spike: alive. Now what's wrong with that equation? A lot, if you ask me. They're the lucky ones. They always were._

_I guess that I should put it out there, what exactly this is all about. It's simple, really; I'm an addict. Heroin is my drug of choice. And it's true what they say. It really does just take on hit to get hooked. Or maybe I just wanted to get hooked. I dunno…doesn't really matter. _

_So, I was just sitting there in front of the vid screen, hoping for something, expecting nothing, and wondering in the back of my mind, when my next hit will be. Then here comes Faye, all concerned and shit. And she has one of my needles in her hand. Shit, I think. Where in the hell did she find that? I didn't think I left any out. She tells me that she found it in the hanger by my ship and that she's had her suspicions for about a month now. Well whoop-di-fucking-do, Faye had a suspicion. _

_So she tells me that she wants to help me; that she wants me to kick this addiction. I dunno; it's like she cares or something. Stupid wench. I know she's lying. All she cares about is money. She didn't fool me with that whole "I got my memories back" crap she sputtered at me a couple months ago. She says that she wants me to write down why I do this; the drugs that is. What's going through my mind before, during, and after? She wants me to "document it" so she can try and find some way to really, truly help me. Don't know why she wants to, though._

_But like I said, she asked me to, and I figured "why the hell not". She wanted to know what I was thinking before, during and after, so, let's see. Before, I was sitting on the couch, like I said, when she tosses this book my way. After I listen to her prattling, I go to my room and write down this shit. Now just one sec and I'll tell ya what I'm thinking "during"…._

_Oh yeah…I'm feeling good "during". Damn good. It takes away the shit-hole that my life has fallen into. I suddenly don't care anymore. That's why I do this. I guess I'm just trying to ease it all until I finally get the balls to finish what Vicious started. A lot of people would call me 'depressed', and I guess I kinda am. What do I have left to live for? My girl's dead, my ex-best friend is dead, my mentor is dead; the Syndicate I worked for is dead…seeing a pattern, here? It's all down hill from here and I pray that this drug takes me out fast and painless. And maybe with a bang. Yeah, that seems good._

_So, I guess to finish this up right, let me say that my name is Spike Spiegel, and I'm a heroin addict._


	2. Can You Spare a Few Woolongs?

1. Can You Spare a Few Woolongs?

* * *

Spike slowly closed his new journal as he kicked back in his chair. Through hazed vision, he glanced at his empty desktop and tried to admire said book. It was blue – no, black. No, wait…it was green. He rubbed his eyes and leaned back towards the desk. It was a bland cover, to say the least. Just some normal shade of green. In the bottom right corner, though, there where his initial, "S.S".

Spike briefly wondered why Faye would go to the trouble to put his initials on it, but he then found that he simply didn't care. His mind was a little too clouded and his rush was a little too euphoric. He stood up to go lie in his bed, but didn't quite make it that far. In his "happiness", he collapsed just before his goal. He was too high to notice that, though.

* * *

_April 18, 2072_

_So…I'm in the after stage now. I guess it's been about three or four hours since I took the hit. I woke up on the floor…that happens to me a lot, now. Take a hit, pass out, wake up and ride the last waves of happy. I don't really know why I pass out, it just kinda happens. Maybe I'm not fully healed yet. I mean, it's only been a couple months since I got filleted by Vicious. _

_Man, I still can't believe that whole thing. None of it really makes sense. I still don't really know why I figured that killing each other was the best way to go. As is evident by the fact that I'm writing, I'm not dead. Wait…I already said that, didn't I? Yeah, well…I still don't know why I'm here. The bastard sliced me open from left to right. I'm surprised my guts didn't fall onto the floor right then and there. I still remember what he said to me before he died (the lucky bastard). He told me that "the only reason I ever hated you so damn much was because I always loved you the most." And then he croaked. What the fuck is that supposed to even mean? Because he loved me the most?_

_I dunno; I don't really want to think about it right now. I don't really want to think about anything. I do, however, think I want another hit. Damnit, I just contradicted myself. Anyways, yeah…that sounds good. It's surprising just how fast this shit wares off. When I first started I could last a few hours, but now I'm lucky if I can make it to three. Maybe I'm cutting some cut shit. If that's the case, then I think I need a new dealer._

_It's a fuckin' drag, really. The only time I really feel good is when I'm high. Guess that's why I try to stay that way as much as possible. When I'm faced with the real world, all I can do is shudder. I've been trying to avoid it for so damn long and now that everything that kept me in my dream is gone, I gotta find someway to get back there, back to my dreams. _

_Damnit! I'm out! How in the hell did I get out! I swear I had at least another half a gram! Fuck! And I'm outta cash. Spent my last few woolongs yesterday. I really didn't need that beer. Ah…I think I have something I could hawk. Who am I kidding, my stuff ain't worth jack. Maybe my gun? No, I'm sure I'll need that…but will I really need it? Yes…I think so…yeah, I'll keep it. For now at least. Maybe Faye has something. She did say she wanted to help me, right? That sure would help me a lot – wait, what the fuck am I doing? I want a hit, but I write instead? Where in the fuck are my priorities?_

* * *

Jet stood in the kitchen, leaning slightly over the sink. His hands where encased in yellow latex gloves and suds slowly bubbled down his arms. An uncharacteristically pink apron was draped across his front and tied in a loose bow in the back. A chipped plate was in his flesh hand while a soapy sponge was in his mechanical one. 

The aging cowboy had to wonder how he got stuck with dish duty. Again. He was the one that cooked the meal, so why should he have to clean up, too? He faintly remembered that Faye said she'd do them tonight, but when the time came, she suddenly had to attend to "woman problems". As he heard the shower turn off, he couldn't help but think, 'woman problems, my ass.'

At the sound of quiet scuffling behind him, Jet turned his head towards the noise. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his straining comrade and had a feeling he knew what was coming.

"Hey Jet. Faye cut out on the dishes again?"

"Yeah. Said she had things to do," the older man said, heaving a tired sigh. He knew the routine; he and Spike had fallen into it quickly. Spike would hobble in, slightly jittery with a forced calm. Then he would make small talk, commenting on what he saw, and then he would casually ask if Jet could spare him a few woolongs. And like a fool, Jet always did.

"She tends to do that a lot," Spike smoothly replied. Now that he had created the friendly atmosphere, it was time to move in for the kill.

"So Jet, since you still won't let me go out and get any bounties, I've found myself low on cash. I hate to ask you again, but it is your own fault. So, do you think I could borrow a couple bucks? I'll pay ya back when you finally let me hunt," he said, his voice amicable and playful.

"What do you need it for?" Jet usually made it a habit to not question Spike, but tonight he wanted to see if he'd get an answer.

"I just need to pick up some stuff, Jet. Jesus, when in the hell did you get so personal? Do you give Faye or the kid the third degree when _they_ ask you something!"

Spike's demeanor quickly went from paling around to irritable. All he wanted was money, not an interrogation. Jet had figured Spike would get upset, but not so much so. He was changing fast, and Jetdidn't like it one bit.

Tossing an audible, disappointed sigh Spike's way, Jet wiped his hands on his apron and reached into his pocket. Fishing out a few woolongs, he turned towards Spike and reached the money to him. With a smile on his face, Spike's friendliness returned as he accepted the money.

"Thanks a bunch, Jet-o. I'll use it well."

And with that, Spike hurried out of the kitchen and to the hanger. As Jet turned back to the sink, he heard the Swordfish II roar to life and fly out of the Bebop. That guy sure could be fast, when there was something that he really wanted.

"Why?"

Jet cringed as he heard Faye's voice. He was hoping that she wouldn't have heard that little transaction. Once again, feeling what was coming, Jet let out his umpteenth sigh of the night.

"Why what, Faye?"

"Why in the hell did you give him the money? You know what he's going to do with it! He's only gonna go buy more shit to shoot into his veins and he's only gonna get worse. Why are you helping him do that?"

"I'm not, Faye," Jet responded calmly. It tinged a nerve whenever she accused him of helping Spike's habit, but he tried to keep himself under control.

"The hell you aren't! If he doesn't have money then he can't buy anything. It's a simple equation, Jet! If he's your friend like you say he is, then why are you doing this? It's almost like you don't care…"

"Stop right there, Faye!" Jet bellowed as he let the plate he was washing fall into the sink. "You know damn well that I care. If I didn't, I would've kicked him off my ship by now. You don't think I know what he's going to do? You don't think I care? Well guess what, Faye: yes, I do care. For some God forsaken reason, I care about what is happening to him and it makes me sick! And before you talk about what _I'm_ doing, tell me what _you're_ doing to help him? Writing shit down in a diary ain't gonna cure him!"

"Fuck you, Jet! At least I'm _doing _something besides enabling his next hit. He's talking in a way and maybe this'll get him really thinking about what he's doing!"

"Yeah, right," Jet snorted. "I doubt he's even writing anything down. Even if he did, it's not like he's gonna read it and have some grand epiphany that what he's doing is wrong!"

"Forget, Jet; just forget it! Why don't you just stick the damn needle in his arm for him?"

"Ah come on, Faye…"

"No, Jet; I mean, what if Ed where to find one of his needles or something? I told you I found one in the hanger the other day! She doesn't need to see that and start asking questions. She's the only one on this damn ship that still believes that everything is good and I don't want her to find the truth out before she has to!"

"I don't want her finding out, either, but she can't be innocent forever! And besides, it's not like you're keeping her suspicions about life at bay with the clothes you wear. Or lack there of, more appropriately."

And that was it. The fight was over. Jet crossed that line. He had a tendency to do that lately. As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew it was a hideous thing to say. The bitter taste still lingered.

"Christ, Faye. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, you know that."

"Of course, Jet," Faye almost whispered. She silently turned away from him and disappeared somewhere into the heart of the Bebop.

Giving a trademark sigh, Jet ran a cold metal hand over his balding skull. It always happened like this. Ever since they realized what Spike was doing, he and Faye would always fight over it. And they would always say stupid thing to each other. And then one of them would same something particularly biting, feelings would be hurt, and they would go their separate ways.

Last time it was Faye's remark that brought their fight to a close. She said something about Alisa and he's turning the other cheek policy and things just fell apart. Picking up the plate he had dropped, Jet resumed cleaning. There where still quite a few dishes left and they surely weren't going to clean themselves.

* * *

**So that's the first 2 chapters. I figured I'd put 2 out first, just to get ya hooked. Well, did i get you hooked? I hope so. If you reviewed, though, then I'd no for sure. **

**Oh, and the line in Spike's diary about Vicious "loving him the most", was paraphrased from an episode of Nip/Tuck; the one where Sean finds out the truth about Christian, his wife Julia, and his son, Matt. And if you've ever watched the show, have you noticed the love triangle of Sean, Christian and...Julia? It's eerily reminiscent of Bebop, isn't it...**

**Sorry, just my little tangents. Well, hope you liked the chapter. Another shall be out soon.**

**phoenix**


	3. All That She Could Ask For

2. All That She Could Ask For

_

* * *

_

_April 21, 2072_

_So we did it again. Another fight, another word that should have never been spoken. It's not fair what Spike is doing to us. I doubt he even knows. Even if he did, would he care? God, who knows. I don't know why Jet is so against my method. I know it seems like a really stupid idea; writing things down, but it really is effective. I should know. If I hadn't have been writing in my diary, I doubt I would have ever gotten my memories back. Almost every night since I wound up on this ship, I would write. Sometimes things would all of a sudden click and then, wham, the memories would rush back. I don't know if writing will really help Spike understand that he's hurting himself, but it's worth a try._

_It's been four months since he was released from the hospital. He was only in there for a week; we didn't have enough money to keep him in there any longer. He was upset and depressed, but I always figured he'd snap out of it. But then he started drinking. A lot. And then he started to act weird. He'd come home and he'd seem happy, but by morning, he'd be so damn crabby. And then I started noticing the marks on his arms. When I changed his bandages, I'd notice the bruises. I tried to ask him once, but he pretended that he didn't hear me._

_When I found the needle last week, I couldn't pretend anymore. He was using heroin, and if his recent behavior changes were any indication, he was becoming addicted fast. His pupils, well, pupil, was almost always dilated. I really shouldn't have noticed, since his eyes are so dark, but sometimes I'd space out and just stare at him. And he's been real jittery and fidgety. It's like he couldn't sit still if you paid him to. And his mood swings are ridiculous. One minute he's laughing at something on the vid screen, the next minute he's shouting at the top of his lungs about something or other. Now Spike has always been a moody man, but this is getting out of hand._

_I don't know how he's fallen so deep, so fast. He couldn't have been doing this for more than three months, but he's getting lost. To be honest, it's scaring me a lot. I know that he's really upset about being alive and all, but it's almost like he's giving up. It really does scare me. And I know that this drug, this _heroin_ isn't gonna help him at all. If anything, it's only gonna speed up his depression. _

_I don't know what to do. I want to help him, I really do, but I don't know how. And the people who _do_ know how, want too much money. Leave it to Mars to be one of the most expensive planets in the solar system. And leave it to the Bebop to break down here and require an unnecessarily expensive part to fix it. And leave it to us to inevitably be broke. Maybe things will work themselves out. Maybe he really will realize that he's killing himself. Yeah, right; and maybe pigs will fly. But then again, this is 2072…_

* * *

Spike crept down the corridor of the Bebop. It was late and he didn't want to wake anyone. He figured it was a little after two. Wow, he had been gone about six hours, but it wasn't his fault. The guy he normally went to was out tonight. Spike had been pretty pissed; he really wanted a hit. His dealer gave him the name of a guy just down the road, though. He told Spike to give the guy his name and he'd give Spike a discount.

As he felt the single woolong left in his pocket, he couldn't help but grouse. He searched two hours for the guy and when he finally found him, his idea of a discount was one woolong off. It was bad enough that for just one measly half a gram, Spike had to pay 20 woolongs; nineteen didn't seem like a discount at all. But as he stumbled down the hallway, content and satiated, he didn't really mind too much.

Stopping to lean on the wall for a moment, a lopsided grin on his face, Spike's head rolled back and his eyes gazed at the ceiling. In the dim light he could faintly see bullet holes in the roof. He chuckled as he remembered he was the reason those holes where there. It was Faye's way of telling him to stay. He didn't really know how she expected to stop him that way. He doubted that she knew, either. Chuckling again, Spike pushed off the wall and headed to his room. He was sleepy and he needed his beauty rest, after all.

* * *

Faye had been awake when Spike finally ambled in. She had waited all night for him to come back. Whenever he went out, she always feared that he would never come back again. She was afraid that he'd get involved with the wrong gang and get himself killed. Or take too much and overdose. Or worse; just not want to come back at all. So every time he left she would wait up for him.

When she heard his bedroom door close, she sighed in relief. God knows he wasn't in good shape, heck, he may not even be in one piece, but at least he was home. Right now, that's really all that she could ask for.


	4. Ed Loves Piyokos

3. Ed Loves Piyokos

* * *

When Faye woke up the next morning, she groaned when she realized that it was only a little after nine. Ever since Spike came home from the hospital, Faye had found herself going to bed later and waking up earlier. She didn't really sleep much anymore because she was always worrying about Spike.

"I swear," she mumbled to herself, "I'm so damn worried about him. I should worry about myself. I'm going to start getting worry lines on my forehead and bags under my eyes. Oh why do I care about you Spike?" She said in mock sympathy.

She glanced at her night stand and her gaze fell onto the 'Bebop Family Portrait', otherwise known as utter chaos, and slowly picked it up. The photo was Jet's idea, sometime before Spike tried to get himself killed. In it, they where on the outer deck of the Bebop where Jet was desperately trying to keep Ed from standing on her hands, and ended up holding her upside down instead. Faye had Ed's foot in the crook of her neck, so her face was distorted. And Spike was in mid-fall as Ein had casually lifted his leg to take a piss on Spike's shoe.

"Right. That's why," Faye said with sincerity. She put the picture back in place.

She pushed herself up from the bed and pulled on her terry cloth robe. Mornings on the Bebop were often times chilly, as she had learned from recent experience. She put her feet into her mint green slippers and she headed for the door. When she opened it, there was an envelope taped the outer side of her door, and a small bag on the knob. She pulled the card off and saw her name scribbled on it.

Grabbing the bag, she walked back into her room and sat back on the bed. She opened the envelope and pulled out a pink card with purple flowers on it.

'Tacky as always, aren't we Jet?' She mused silently.

The message was simply inscribed when she opened up the card: "Faye. I'm sorry about what I said. You know I always am. I guess things are just getting a lot harder now, and a lot of it seems to be his fault. I really do appreciate what you are doing for him and I will try to do something, too; just as soon as I can think of something. Jet." Smiling lightly, Faye then opened the bag.

"Chocolate!" Faye squealed. Jet always knew how to say sorry. And it had been so long since she last had real chocolate. All was forgiven, indeed.

Unwrapping the treat and biting off a hunk, Faye reveled in the smooth taste. She made sure to enjoy these little indulgences because she new that such peace would never last.

* * *

By noon, everyone on the Bebop was awake. Ed was doing cartwheels in the common room and Ein was barking happily by her side. Jet sat at the computer, typing away at something and Faye was sitting on the couch, filing her nails. All were present except for Spike. No one really asked where he was, though.

As if on cue, the lanky cowboy strolled into the room, hands in his pockets and skin slightly flushed. There was a distant half smile on his face and there was a slight spring in his step. One look at him and Jet and Faye knew that he had just shot up.

"So, anything for lunch?"

"There are some leftover bell peppers in the fridge. I fixed you a plate last night, so it should still be in there," Jet said, never looking away from the computer screen.

"Spike person wasn't at eaty dinner time last night," Ed accused in her innocent, sing song voice.

"Yeah…" he absently responded.

"Where were you, Spike person? Did you go flying high high high up into the night sky sky sky?"

Faye had to restrain herself from saying that he was some kind of high last night.

"Yeah, you could say that," Spike told her.

"I did say that, Spike person," Ed pointed out.

"Yes, you did," Spike answered. Normally, her pestering would have gotten to him, but right now, he was equipped to deal with her.

"Hey Ed?"

"Yes yes Spike person?"

"How about you and I play a game?"

"Ooohhh, a gamey game! What kind of game does Spike person want to play with Ed? And what does Ed get if she wins?"

"I want to play a game of hide and seek."

"Is Spike person going to hide and let Ed seek sneak peak for him?"

"Not quite. See, I've hidden a piyoko somewhere on the deck and if you find it, then you can have it."

"Yay! Ed LOVES piyokos! They're so tasty pasty lemon wastey!"

"Yeah, that…"

Then Ed was off. Her arms were outspread and she was making zooming sounds as she flew down the hall.

"Did you really hide something on the deck?" Jet gruffly asked.

"Nah."

"When she realizes that, you know she's gonna be mad, right?"

"She won't get mad."

"Then you don't know Ed," Faye interjected. "Don't promise her things that you won't give her, Spike."

"Don't lecture me, Faye," Spike said in a warning tone. "I think I'm appeasing you enough as it is."

Before she could respond, Spike entered the kitchen and grabbed his plate of food. Content with it being cold, he grabbed some chopsticks and dug in. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten for, shit, almost two days. How did it slip his mind? Oh well.

Back in the common room, Jet and Faye sat alone once again. There was an awkward silence that lingered. It was almost tense, and they both knew the reason why.

"I forgive you, Jet," Faye said quietly. "And I'm sorry for what I said, too."

Jet looked up from the computer and saw her smiling at him.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, too."

"You already said that."

"Heh, I guess I did."

The two comrades broke out into small laughter and the mood of the room calmed. Venturing to glance at one another again, Faye sighed and smiled at him.

"Oh, and thanks for the chocolate. It was delicious. Definitely the best way to get a woman to forgive you."

"I thought so," Jet said, tossing a warm smile her way. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you at least got a plan. I still don't know if it's gonna work, but it's worth a try."

"Thanks, Jet. I hope it works, too. I hope something works."

"Yeah…"

"Do you think we should say something to him? I mean, really sit him down and talk to him?"

"It seems likea good idea. He knows we know, but if we just keep skirting around the issue, he's just gonna keep thinking he's getting away with it."

"So, an intervention then?"

"I guess. What do people do in an intervention anyway?"

"I dunno. Tell the person you know they have a problem and that you care about them. You know; that kind of sappy stuff."

"Right. Maybe that'll do something."

"Yeah, let's hope so."

They both clamed up as Spike shuffled back into the common room.

"My ears are ringing," Spike casually said.

"I don't know why. I haven't slapped you yet," Faye joked.

"You're a real laugh riot, Faye."

"You have no idea cowboy." And with that, Faye went back to filing her nails.

* * *

**so, two more chapters for you guys. what do you think? not to be a whiner, but please leave me a review of what you think. and a nice one, please. i just want to make sure i'm doing a good job, giving you guys a good read. well, thanks for your time and until the next chapters!**

**phoenix**


	5. Lullabies and Interventions

4. Lullabies and Interventions

_

* * *

_

_March 29, 2072_

_First off, I'm just doin this for the woman. She asked me to write shit down, too. She figures that we all need to vent somehow. I wonder if she knows just how lethal those puppy dog eyes of hers are. Well of course she does. Why else would she use 'em?_

_So I've been doing some research about heroin and what it does to a person. I had general ideas about it, I was a cop after all, but I never really _knew_ what it could do to you. Chills and the runs, shaking and slowed breathing, a lot of itching and sneezing and you can even get boils and things like that. Not to mention that it can mess up your heart and liver. Why in the hell would someone do this stuff? Just to feel good for a little while? It just doesn't seem worth it._

_And withdrawal seems like a bitch. Nausea and shakes and actual physical pain are too much for me. And you get depressed, too. And that's what really gets me. If Spike was upset from the very beginning, how is this gonna help him? It's not, that for damn sure. _

_I just don't have any clue as to why he's so fucking upset. I mean, yeah, his girlfriend's dead and he has all of these ties to syndicates and shit, but it doesn't seem _that_ bad. Or maybe I'm just making light of what may be a bad situation. Either way, I just don't believe that this is the only thing for him. I may not be a talker or one for emotion, but if he ever needed me, then he has to know I'd be there for him. He knows that, right?_

_Hell, maybe he doesn't. He's not like Faye, so he can't see that I'm just trying to "cover up my true feelings", as the wench would say. Maybe I just needed to come out and say it. Maybe I should have tried to stop being such a 'man'. Or maybe I'm just losing it. But I'm not _that_ old yet…_

_Well, me and Faye are gonna do this intervention thing tonight. We've been loosely planning it for the past couple of days. It's nothing big and fancy, just us sitting him down and trying to talk to him about this. I doubt he'll listen to us. He'll probably even resent us for it. But maybe it'll help, too. I hope it does. I figure he's been addicted for about three months now and he's snowballing fast. Something has to get through to him. To be honest, I…I don't want to lose him._

_I never had a lot of friends in my adult years. Most cops didn't like me 'cause I wasn't crooked. And you don't easily make friends with civilians when you're a cop. Being a bounty hunter isn't easy, either. I guess I've always had a soft spot for the guy. He may seem aloof, but we all know he isn't. He confuses the hell outta me every damn day, but I'm glad he's here. I want to keep it that way for as long as I can, too. I don't know how long Faye and I could survive together by ourselves or with just the kid and the dog. I mean, she's a good girl and all, but sometimes she sure can be a real bitch._

* * *

"Spike. Spike!"

Said man silently groaned as her heard Faye's voice float through the closed door. Now was an inopportune time, to say the least. Spike sat on his bed with the left sleeve of his wrinkled yellow shirt rolled up. A thick rubber band, reminiscent of the ones that bind the Sunday's newspaper, had found its way up Spike's bicep, just past his elbow. An open bottle of rubbing alcohol on his dresser oozed its noxious smell andcotton ball now lay discarded on his bed. He had just wiped his arm clean, wincing at the sting. His needle, filled to 1/4 of an ounce, held his precious liquid and he was ready to strike.

"I know you're in there, lunkhead! I'll break down the door if I have to!"

Spike rubbed his right hand over his frazzled face and let out an aggravated sigh. What in the hell could she want? And why right now. It had been almost five hours since his last hit. He had fallen asleep and was woken up by a sharp pain in his stomach. When he went too long with this stuff, he fell apart fast. He took in a deep breath as he tried to regulate his rapid breathing.

"What do you _want_, Faye?" He ground out, realizing he wasn't concealing his anger well.

"Jet and I need to see you in the common room. _Now_."

He was sure he heard the disappointment in her voice. But why in the hell was she disappointed? He was the one who didn't get his hit, after all. Well, maybe he had enough time to shoot up. Stretching his arm out, Spike once again readied himself for the poke.

"I said NOW, Spike!"

Tossing the needle down in true frustration, Spike ripped the rubber band from his arm and sprung up from his bed.

"All right, you fucking wench, I'm comin' already!" He yelled as he threw open the door.

Faye tried to hold in her gasp when she saw Spike's appearance. It had been at least seven hours since she last saw him and he hadn't looked this bad. His hair was a mess, which was saying a lot for his unkempt hairdo. His skin was pale and clammy and small beads of sweat collected at his forehead. His face was set in a deep scowl and his eyes were slightly bloodshot. And his fidgeting was so bad it looked as if he was shivering from cold.

He roughly pushed past her and stalked down the hall to where his prescence was requested. Upon his arrival, Spike saw Jet sitting in the armchair to the right of the yellow couch. Faye came around from behind him and took a seat on the cool metal table next to Jet's chair. Both wore masks of what he saw as mock concern, and Spike suddenly realized that he should have shot up anyway.

* * *

"Sit down, Spike," Jet said in a quiet tone.

"…Why?" Spike asked after several moments' hesitation.

"We need to talk to you," Faye answered him.

"Talk to me about what?"

When he didn't get an answer, Spike let out a defeated grunt and took his usual spot on the couch. He ran a shaking hand through his unruly mop of hair and prayed that this would be over soon.

"Where's the kid?" He casually asked.

"She's taking Ein for a walk. We told her to go around the pier once, so she should be gone for at least an hour," Faye once again responded as she considered the fact that it took a normal person only about twenty minutes to go around the pier. "And she's mad at you, just so you know."

"Why in the hell would she be mad at me?" Spike asked, quickly tiring of this trivial Q & A session.

"You promised her something that didn't really exist. Her favorite food, no less. She doesn't like being lied to, Spike. I'm sure she'll let you know next time she sees you," Jet passively said.

"Oh," was Spike's callous response. "So what do you need to 'talk' to me about?"

Faye and Jet exchanged nervous glances, almost as if asking if they really wanted to go through with this. Understanding that it was something that needed to be done, they gave each other a curt nod and turned back to the man in question.

"Thing is, Spike," Jet slowly began, "you've been doing something and we don't really appreciate it."

"Yeah," Faye took over. "We know, Spike. We know you've been using heroin. We're not sure how long or why, but we know that you are. And well…we just wanted to say that we want you to stop. This drug is really getting to you and we think it's messing you up real bad.

"I mean, you've been so moody and so out of character lately. And you're prone to random bursts of anger of sadness and you're just not healthy. For God's sake, you look like a ghost! Your skin is as pale as thesheet and you're lucky if you even weigh 130 pounds! I know you're a skinny guy, but this is ridiculous!"

Faye felt Jet's hand touch her lightly on her arm. This was his way of saying "too much". She knew she'd lose it and she knew she'd need Jet to reel her back in. Giving her a look to tell her to give it a rest, Jet removed his hand and picked up the conversation.

"Look, Spike; we're saying this to you because we really do care about you. We know you're goin' through some rough times and we just want to get you through them as best we can. But this drug thing isn't gonna do anything.

"Have you even looked in a mirror lately? You face has hollowed out and you eyes have sunken in and you just don't look like yourself. When you were just going out and getting drunk every night, that was something that seemed tamable. But we really don't know what to do now."

"We want you to get help, Spike," Faye almost pleaded. She had calmed down and now just wanted him to see what they where saying. "We don't really know how to help you, but there are clinics and things that can help you detox and everything. I know we don't have any money for this, but we'll find a way to get you through. Please, just do this and let us help you."

Spike sat on the couch, reclined and antsy. And now he was slightly pissed. No, he was extremely pissed. They called him out of his room, away from his only comfort in life, just to tell him this! What in the holy hell was wrong with them? He took his time in constructing his next sentences; he knew he had to make them effective.

"Fuck you guys." Leave it to Spike to always be so eloquent. "It's nice and all that you think I have problem, which I don't; but even if I did, I ain't goin' to no rehab shit. You could _never_ make me do that. That stuff is for people with problems; people who don't know how to control themselves. If I _was_ 'addicted' to anything, I'd know how to stop if it was really that bad."

And with that, Spike pushed himself up off the couch and headed back to his room. He was about two seconds away from throwing a hissy fit, but he figured that if he could just make it back to his room, then everything would be a-okay.

"So, is that it, Spike?" Asked a concerned Jet.

"Guess so," Spike responded, tossing a hand up as he receded down the hallway.

"I suppose that didn't go as well as we hoped, did it?" Faye asked.

"Yeah, guess not."

The two failed interventionist sat in oppressive silence. If they couldn't get him to see what _they_ did, then hope was dwindling fast. Faye was about to get up and go after him, though she wasn't sure what that would accomplish, when the door to the Bebop burst open.

"Helloooo again, Bebop Bebop! Ed and Ein have returned from their walky walk!"

The two adults groaned aloud – she wasn't supposed to be back so soon.

"Why the long john faces Faye Faye and Jet person?"

"Nothing, Ed," Jet tried to dismiss. The girl may have been oblivious to the world, but she was surprisingly intuitive as well.

"And tell the kid to get over it!" Spike bellowed from somewhere within the Bebop.

A rare scowl crossed Ed's tan face. She hadn't forgotten about Spike's lie. She hated when people lied to her. She hated it more than anyone realized. Like a rocket, Ed blasted past Jet and Faye, down the hall towards Spike's voice.

"Do you think we should go stop her?" Faye asked, shocked at the girl's reaction.

"Yea, I think that'd be a good idea."

* * *

Spike was just about to grab the handle of his door when he was tackled to the ground.

"What the…get the hell off of me, Ed!" Spike yelled. His last string of patience was threatening to snap.

"Why did Spike person lie to Edward?" The girl practically screamed. "You promised Ed that she would find a piyoko but four day later, Ed understands that there never was a piyoko! Why did Spike person lie to Ed? Ed does not understand why Spike person would be so mean!"

Jet and Faye heard Ed's whine and couldn't quite decipher why she was so upset. He had lied to her, yes; but it was just about food. They figured that this must be something deep inside of the young girl, something that may have traumatized her. After all, hadn't her father promised to pick her up from that day care? And they where also surprised when Ed's speech was devoid of her usual round-a-bout turn of phrase. They picked up the pace.

"Ed, get off of me," Spike strained, more than ready to snap.

"Does Spike person promise to give Ed a piyoko now? If not, then Ed is not moving!"

That did it. Spike rose effortlessly from the floor and unceremoniously dropped Ed onto the ground. He whirled around to face her, hatred burning in his eyes.

"Yeah, I lied to you, Ed. Big fucking deal! You'd be surprised at just how much you're gonna get lied to! It's a fact of life, so get over it! Hell, that's not the first time I've lied to you! Who the fuck cares, anyway! Now leave me alone or I'll really give you something to whine about!"

Spike's door slammed with all of the fury he was feeling. How dare that little brat talk to him like that! It was just a fucking piece of food! Fed up with the way his day was turning out, Spike locked his door, practically ripped off his sleeve and jammed the needle deep into his arm. He should have eased up, the entry hurt like hell; but once that glorious fluid mingled with his blood, he suddenly felt fine. Flopping onto his bed and letting his junkie arm hang over the side, Spike lazily smiled and closed his eyes. If he had of been of sound mind, then he might have understood why Ed was so upset. But thoughts like that where only going to ruin his high.

* * *

Outside the bedroom door, Jet carefully collected Ed up off the floor. In reaction to Spike's explosive outburst, Ed had been quickly reduced to painful tears. All she wanted was to let Spike know that he hurt her when he lied. But now he had hurt her so much worse. She had never been yelled at like that before. She thought of Spike as her older brother and with his little episode, Ed actually became afraid of him.

Jet held the sobbing girl to him as Faye gently stoked her back. Ein stared up at the threesome and whined his sympathies as well. Since Ed really didn't have a room to go to, Faye offered hers. She led them to her room and allowed Jet to put Ed on her bed. The young girl was still crying, but she had calmed down a bit.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Ed," Faye genuinely offered. She was furious at Spike. It was one thing to yell at her or Jet, but to take it out on Ed was unacceptable.

"Why did he say such mean things to Ed?" She meekly asked.

"Spike's going through some hard times right now and he's really stressed out. You should just stay away from him for a while until he's finally cooled down," Faye told her.

Faye detested covering for Spike. He didn't deserve it, especially after this. For Ed's sake, though, she'd do it for them both. As Ed slowly nodded in understanding, Jet gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Hey, how about I go out and buy you a whole pack of piyokos?" Jet asked her with a warm smile.

"Really?" Ed asked, eagerness making its way back into her voice.

"Yep. I'll go right now."

Ed smiled big, though it wasn't her million-dollar smile. She looked at Faye and smiled some more, but Faye could now see through her now. It was a gift of Faye's, she figured. After seeing someone emotionally break down, Faye was then able to see past any defense they put up. Ed's smile said she was okay, but the look in her eyes almost broke Faye's heart. Ed suddenly wasn't so innocent anymore. Pulling the girl into a tender hug, all Faye could do was hope they'd all make it through this alive.

* * *

**intense, i know. addiction isn't all what it's cracked up to be. and yes, that was jet with a journal entry, just in case it wasn't clear enough. well, i think i'm just gonna do one chapter this time around, since this one is kinda long. so then, until next time.**

**- phoenix**


	6. How This All Came to Be

5. How This All Came to Be

_

* * *

_

_May 2, 2072_

_It's funny, really, how I got into heroin. I was always against drugs and everything. I never liked the thought of not being in control of myself. I guess that after my fight with Vicious, and the fact that I was still alive, I figured that I probably wasn't in control of my life, anyway. If I was, I'd be dead by now. When I woke up in the hospital and it hit me that I was alive, I tried to rip the I.V.'s and shit out of my arms and go somewhere; anywhere. But the nurses rushed in and strapped me down. Then I was sent back here. I'd say 'back home', but this ship isn't a home. It's just a bunch of freaks thrown together. Heh, I guess I fit in perfectly._

_So once I get out Jet tells me I can't hunt or anything (not that I really want to), and makes me stay on the ship till I can walk without a limp. Turns out my leg got pretty beat up on my way to find Vicious. It wasn't broke or anything, just real messed up. So, when I convinced that old man that I was fine, he started letting me out. And that's when I started drinking. Every night I'd go out and get piss drunk. Then I'd stumble home and pray to the porcelain god for a while. Faye found me a few times like that. She said something about wasting away. She's always sayin' somethin' stupid._

_So one night I get rowdy and get kicked out of a bar. I'm stumbling home through some back alleys when some guy calls me over to him. I don't know why, but I go to him and he tells me that I look like I could use a little "pick me up". I can't help but agree with him. So he takes out this syringe and it has something in it. He grabs my arm and sticks me before I can react. At first I'm ready to kill the guy, then all of a sudden this awesome rush hits me and I feel like I'm walking on a fucking cloud. I was hooked._

_He took the rest of my money that night. I got 2 grams of pure, unaltered heroin for a first time user's discount of 75 woolongs. Best 75 woos I ever spent. The guy shows me how to use the stuff. He says I can snort it, smoke it or inject it in my muscle or vein. He says there all good ways to go, but to get the best rush; I had to go through the vein. Then he shows me how to melt the stuff down. Foil or a spoon or some kind a metal and fire. Heat till liquefied, insert into syringe and then you're good to go. Oh yeah, real good._

_And so here I am now. I've been on the stuff for almost four months now. An "addict" is what _they _call me. I'm not addicted, though. I could quit any time I wanted to. I think. I kinda gave up alcohol; I mean what's the need. This is ten times better than any buzz I could ever get. The side effects suck sometimes, though. I throw up a lot and I get real anxious sometimes. But I think it's all worth it. When I'm high, boy am I high._

_It's the way I prefer to be, now days. I hate coming down. It's such an unreal experience and what makes it even worse is that I just _know_ what kind of world I'd be in if I was clean. It'd be hell. I know that I couldn't make it sober. Hell, I can barely make it now. Like I said a long time ago, I'm not trying to make it, though. But when I'm high, it's harder to think about all of that. I only get…suicidal…when I'm comin' down. Wow, that word looks so weird. "Suicidal". I really am fucked up; I'll be the first to admit it. I'd be doing the world a favor if I died, it's not like I'm a productive member of society, anyway. But like I said: when I'm high, I just don't think about that._

_And speaking of high, I'm feelin' pretty good right now. I did more than I normally do today, but I'm okay. I guess I was still feelin' guilty for yelling at the kid. But could you blame me? Comes knocking me to the floor and yelling about food? So what, if I lied to her? Big deal. I haven't even seen the little brat since then. Christ, she acted like I killed the mutt or something. She's gonna have to get some thick skin if she's gonna make it in this world. Her dad knows how to take care of himself. Wait a minute…her dad. Appledehli. I guess he kinda lied to her, huh? But it's not like I up and left her in day care for two years. Nah that has nothing to do with me at all…_

_Man, I think I'm gonna go work out or something. I really feel like doin' somethin' but I don't know what. Guess I gotta work off this shit somehow. Besides, it's been a while since I last punched the bag around._

* * *

Ed crept around the halls of the Bebop. It was late, past one, and everyone was asleep, including Ein. But she was restless. She was still upset about the other day when Spike yelled at her. She was shocked, actually, to see just how affected she was. She had actually had a nightmare about Spike. He had gotten so mad at here that he disappeared and she couldn't find him. And that's why she was up now. She was too afraid to go back to sleep.

She made her way to the deck. There where no piyokos to find, but she felt like looking at the dim city skyline for now. As she opened the door, however, she stopped in her tracks. Spike was already there. He was working out. Ed silently wondered why his punching bag was here, but she quickly dismissed the thought.

She watched him in awe. His movements were so quick and fluid that he moved like rushing water. He struck the bag with such force that Ed was sure it would explode. She could hear him breathing, though his breaths were unnaturally slow. He seemed so calm, yet so on edge. Ed wanted to turn around and run away, but she simply couldn't. Even though she knew she feared him, she was still quite fascinated by him as well.

In the sparse light of the deck, Ed could see the sweat forming all over Spike's body. It glistened like dew on a flower as it slid down his face as was flung to the floor below. When he reached up to wipe the sweat away, Ed noticed something dark on his hand ,and when he pulled his hand back down, there was now something dark on his forehead.

Straining to see better, Ed gasped when she realized it was blood. Spike was bleeding! But from where? When he finally stopped to get a drink, Ed was able to see clearly. His hands where dyed deep crimson as blood flowed from his knuckles. She knew he was punching the bag hard, but not _that_ hard.

Suddenly, Spike's eyes flashed to where she was standing. Did he see her? She was standing in the dark crack of the slightly opened door. She was sure she was in the dark but she had gasped slightly. Maybe he knew she was there. The look in his eyes scared her. It wasn't the Spike person she knew. He was almost unrecognizable and his too thin frame only harden him more so.

Not wanting to find out whether he knew she was there or not, Ed quickly retreated from her spot and headed back to Faye's room. Ever since her encounter with Spike, Faye had been kind enough to give Ed her room while she took the couch. She was never gladder to have a place with a door that could lock.

Ed sat on Faye's bed and tried to catch her breath. She gazed around Faye's room and found a book on her desk. Curious, the girl opened it up and saw Faye's scribbles. Right, the diary thing. Ed had heard about it, but she didn't really know what was going on. She scanned some of the pages and realized that Faye was writing about things that where happening with Spike.

Not knowing how else to say what she was feeling, Ed found a blank page in the book, picked up a pen and began to write. She mocked Faye's style and dated the entry, just taking a random guess as to the actual date.

_

* * *

May 3, 2072_

_Ed is not sure if she should be writing in Faye Faye's diary, but Ed does not know what else to do. Ed…I am scared. Ever since Spike person yelled at me, I have been afraid of him. I do not like how this feels. I loved Spike person but now I am not sure anymore. If he could yell at me, what else could he do to me?_

_I know that I should not have yelled at him like that, but I was angry. I really hate it when people lie to me. Father person lied to me. He promised Ed that he would pick me up, that he would come back for me. He never did. Just like he promised me that mother lady would come back for Ed, too. She did not. She got into the big hospital truck and promised Ed she would come back soon. Father person said so, too. I think I was five. Or maybe six. I have not seen mother lady since then._

_Every time someone lies to Ed, they go away and I do not see them again. I do not want Spike person to go away. I am scared of him now, yes, but I still want him here. I do not know what I did and Faye Faye will not tell me the real reason why. Jet person will not either. _

_I saw Spike on the deck tonight. He was hitting his dangle bag and he looked really mad. And then Ed saw something on his hands. It was blood! Why was Spike person hurt so badly and why did he not do anything about it? It was like he did not know he was hurt. Spike person has changed a lot really fast and I am scared. He is not like he used to be. I do not get it._

_Ed knows that everyone thinks that I am not able to understand what is going on; that the only thing I understand is hacking. But that is not true. You can learn a lot from hacking. I can take the truth, I really can. I do not know what is going on, but I really wish someone would tell Ed. If Ed could not handle the truth, then I would have never come back to Bebop Bebop. But I felt home here. And in my home, I want to understand. _

_Oh, Ein doggy is here now. He knows that something is bad wrong, too. We are both in the dark together. At least Ed has Ein and Ein has Ed. And Ed has piyokos thanks to Jet person. And now I am tired and so is Ein. Ed does not know how much longer Faye Faye will let me stay in her room so I am going to sleep in her bed now (after I jump on it first!)._

* * *

With her feelings outside of her mind for once, Ed felt lighter. She still didn't have any answers, but at least she had a way of saying what she was feeling. She didn't know why everyone was writing, but she liked being able to feel better like this. Ed figured she might ask Faye Faye for a diary of her own, but that wasn't the most important thing right now.

Grabbing up herlittle dog, Ed hoped onto Faye's bad and jumped happily. Popping a beloved piyoko into her mouth, Ed was truly smiling again. By no stretch of the means was Ed a dumb, naïve girl. She was hurting inside and she was confused and scared. But right now, with her dog and her snack, she was okay, and she secretly hoped that everyone on Bebop Bebop would be okay, too.

* * *

**another long chapter, so i think i'll just post one again. in my wiggle room as an author, i wanted to show that ed really was effected by her dad forgetting about her. and i wanted to offer something about ed's mom. i hope it came out okay. well, till the next chapter, then.**

**- phoenix**


	7. Dinnertime on the Bebop

**so i got kinda impatient, waiting to post chapters and all. so instead of waiting until tomorrow to post, i guess i'll do it now. i hope you enjoy it.**

6. Dinnertime on the Bebop

_

* * *

_

_May 11, 2072_

_So I got into a fight last night. Christ, how corny does that sound? Not only am I writing about my 'addiction', which I still don't have, I'm writing about the stupid shit that happened in my day. Maybe I really am fucked up. But anyway; my normal dealer tried to cheat me tonight. I've been going to this guy for four months now, and I guess I was prone to trusting him. He gets me high, after all. But I go to him tonight with about 200 woolongs on me (I kinda sold some part I found in the hanger) and get ready to buy at least three days' worth. But when I get to him, he's lookin' a little shady and I'm not sure if I want to buy from him tonight. But then my arm starts tingling like it knows that sweet heroin is just a few feet away, and I can't help but go through with it. _

_I give him the money, only momentarily sad to see it go, and get ready to shoot up right there. It'd been an excruciating five hours since my last hit. I know Jet and Faye have been watching me real close lately, so sneaking out wasn't really easy to do. Faye decided to take a shower and Jet took the kid out to get something to eat and I finally got my chance to leave. So I pull out my spoon (I tend to keep one with me now), and I pour some beautiful powder into it. Then I see in the bad lighting that my stuff ain't white. It has some brown tint to it and then I know why the dealer's acting' all shady and shit. His stuff ain't pure tonight. It's been cut with something, only God knows what, and I'm not about to shot anything into my veins that I don't know about._

_Turns out working with the Syndicate was good for something. Me and Vicious, back in our rookie days, would cart drugs around every now and then. We were taught how to tell if something was pure or not. We mostly transported red eye, but every now and then we were sent out with heroin. The stuff is supposed to be pure white and it's supposed to kinda look like flour. It taste slightly bitter, but has no real taste at all. Oh, and it's supposed to be smooth. It doesn't really make sense when you talk about it, but when you feel it, then you get it. _

_So I look at the shit that he's given me and I know it's been cut. It's brownish and when I tasted it, it tasted kinda sweet. The fucker cut it with sugar and Christ knows what else. If I put that stuff in me it'd probably kill me! And by now the guy totally knows that I'm on to him and he starts backing away. But I ain't gonna let him. I paid for _pure_ and since that isn't what I got, I wanted my money back. So I go at him and the guy runs. Why did he do that? I was pissed and craving enough as it was. _

_I ran after him, easily catching up, and I toss him on the ground and start kicking the shit outta him. I wondered why he was unarmed. Any dealer should carry some sort of weapon; it seemed common knowledge to me. I kick him a few times more then reach into his jacked pocket and pull out my money. He had at least 2.000 woos on him, but I just take back my 200. I'm not greedy, I just wanted my stuff. And then I see that he was holding out on me all along! In his other pocket he had a bag half full of the good stuff! Helping myself to half of the bag (like I said, I wasn't trying to be greedy), I kicked him one more time and left._

_So now I got myself a week's supply. Unless I start pushin' more. I think I'm building up a tolerance so my rush hasn't been as intense lately. But that's good for now. So I guess you can't really call it a _fight_, more like me just protecting my investment. Maybe it's time I found a new banker…_

* * *

Dinnertime on the Bebop was no longer the entertaining meshing of four wandering souls, beefless bell peppers and a whiny welsh corgi. No, dinnertime on the Bebop was now a tense occasion where everyone in attendance ate as quickly as they could in order to quickly go their separate ways. Often times, at least one member of their congregation was no where to be seen. 

If anyone was keeping count, and they all tried desperately not to do that, Spike had been home from the hospital for approximately five months and the Bebop had been permanently docked just as long. Spike had been confined solely to the Bebop for one month. And he had been addicted to heroin for about four months. To say his need for the drug was minimal would be the biggest lie that anyone would ever hear, and yet that is what he would always say.

As Jet, Faye, Ed, and Ein sat down to their somber meal, Spike was, of course, no where around. No one tried to make conversation and no one tried to think. They just sat down once more to eat, only for the sake of sustenance.

They had changed. All of them. It may have been Spike with the addiction, but his actions where affective everyone else as well. None of them really knew how to approach him anymore. His moods were indiscernible and even if he was in a good mood he was still a royal ass.

* * *

It only takes two weeks for a person to become overwhelmingly dependent on heroin. That is what Faye had discovered from her research on the internet. Jet had read that, too. It had been four months and they all knew that Spike would probably die without his precious drug. 

'Anything to keep him in his sweet little dream world' the two dining adults thought. The damned cowboy was too afraid to just open his eyes; he always needed a haze in front of him. And his behavior and their efforts to constrain it was taking a true toll on them.

Jet didn't really talk anymore. He had never really been a talker to begin with but now he was more tight-lipped then ever. He often times could be found in the control room just staring at the computer screens or out onto the harbor. This is where he was when he wasn't tinkering aimlessly in the hanger. He all but neglected his bonsais now. No amount of pruning could calm his sagging nerves.

No good bounties had floated their way lately and they barely had any money to live on. The Bebop still could not move, the part it desperately needed was still too expensive and the Tharsis city skyline had becometoo familiar to the aging man.

He had always hated Tharsis, since nothing good ever happened to him there. But it's where Spike was, so that's where he was, too. If they could get away from the damned city, maybe Spike could be saved. But why throw a life preserver to the man who willing jumped ship anyway?

* * *

Faye was in a similar stent as Jet. She was quite withdrawn, almost to the point to where know one would believe she was _the_ Faye Valentine. The bitchy shrew was gone; lost somewhere with Spike's sobriety. He didn't really pick pointless fights with her anymore so she no longer needed to be en guard for his attacks. Spike generally stayed away from everyone now, so it no longer mattered. 

She even scared herself sometimes with her lackadaisical attitude. She almost felt like she did right after she emerged from cryo. Or right after Whitney left her. Lost, empty and searching for something true to cling to. She thought she had found all of that on the hodge-podge ship of characters. It turns out that Spike was the glue, though; and without him, things tended to fall apart.

As for Ed, her changes where impossible to overlook. She didn't sing anymore. She didn't cartwheel through the halls anymore. Her infectious laughter was no longer heard and the only time she ever cracked a smile was when she played with Ein. No one understood her radical change. No one was sure they really wanted to. And the dog was placid too, now days. His eager, wagging, stump of a tale hardly ever moved anymore and his joyous yips were null and void.

* * *

Dinnertime on the Bebop had indeed become a solemn circumstance. Life on the floating hunk of metal was solemn in general. Spike Spiegel was set on a path to destruction and he inevitably was taking the whole crew down with him. Every now and then, the remaining passengers would think, for just a split second though, that maybe the man should have died those several months ago. His reappearance on the ship had done nothing but ruin everyone. The _drug_ had ruined everyone. Hope wasn't a word uttered on the Bebop anymore; no one believed in such a word. 

Rising to head to the kitchen, Jet gathered all of the dirty dishes. Ed stood up and disappeared into the darkened ship with Ein by her feet. Faye took up the one plate left, _his _plate, and went to put it in the fridge. She then went her own way. That's all they ever did now, just go their own ways. What was left for them together anymore anyways?

* * *

**so another sad chapter, eh? i'm kinda sorry for all the sadness and angst, but it's totally necessary. then again, i guess i'm not all that sorry :) and since this is kind of a long chapter, i'm just gonna post one again. oh, and for all you readers (and i know there's more than just a few of you), why not leave me a review and tell me what ya like? it'd really make me happy... well, that's it for now, so until next time.**

**-phoenix**


	8. Trapped in the Bathroom

7. Trapped in the Bathroom

_

* * *

_

_May 18, 2072_

_It can get real quiet around here sometimes. Well actually, all the time. Ed doesn't sing anymore. Hell, I barely ever see the kid. Faye's pretty quiet too, and without Spike in his normal state of mind, the ship isn't full of their childish bickering. I miss that. I miss it all, I guess. Now ain't that weird? Most of the time I found myself yelling at Ed to stop doing this or stop breaking that. Then I'd have to tell Spike and Faye to take their sexual tension somewhere else cause I didn't want to hear it. Then I'd yell at Ein because he wouldn't eat his bean sprouts, even though they were good for him, and I was sure they'd all put me in an early grave. But now the noise is gone and this ship seems emptier than it's ever been._

_I took a peak in my bonsai room yesterday. My babies have gone to shit. I just haven't been in the mood, lately, and they've suffered greatly. They're dying and tangled and the room will soon be uninhabitable if this keeps up. I always used those things to relieve stress. I'm more stressed then ever and yet I can't make myself go in there. Maybe I miss that fact that there's no distractions anymore. Even in my bonsai room, I'd still be interrupted at least once by each of them. But now, there's no more of that. It's quiet on the Bebop, now. I hate the quiet…I wonder if anyone ever knew that about me. Well, I guess they know now._

* * *

She wasn't sure what she had gotten herself into. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. As a rage-filled Spike mercilessly rammed the door behind her, she quickly began to rethink her actions. 

Faye had seen Spike go take a shower. With a towel wrapped just around his waist, Faye was disgusted with what she saw. His upper body, which she had once greatly appreciated with a secret eye, was nothing but skin tightly pulled over bones. He should have had muscle mass, but that wasn't the case anymore. His arms where unnervingly thin and his left arm was decorated with purplish marks. Injection marks. But not only that, it looked like his arm was infected. His whole inner elbow area was discolored and from the way he nursed that arm, Faye was sure that something was direly wrong with it.

As he closed the door and turned on the shower, something snapped in Faye. She wasn't sure what it was and she had no idea what she was doing, but she was doing something. She sprang up from the couch and ran to the hanger. There she spied a long, heavy silver chain and grabbed it in her trembling hands. Rummaging through a box of discarded tools, she located a padlock with the keys still lodged in it. Sighing at her luck, Faye ran back inside and stood in front of the bathroom door.

Fearing what the repercussion would be, but pushing that aside; Faye looped the chain around the bathroom's doorknob and then strung it through the metal circles on the opposite side of the wall. Pulling the two ends together in the middle, Faye opened the lock and clamped it closed, effectively holding the ends of the chain together. Faye pushed on the chain and found it taut and sturdy.

'If I can't watch him all the time, then I can at least _know_ where he is all the time,' Faye hurriedly thought.

Anyone could figure that this plan would never work. It was ill-conceived on the fly and it was a fruitless plan anyway. Spike couldn't stay locked in a bathroom forever; it just wasn't plausible. But Faye wasn't prone to plausible thinking lately. No one really was.

Hearing the shower turn off, Faye's heart skipped several beats. When he realized he was trapped, he was going to be pissed. Suddenly Faye wondered how she was going to let him out. Or when for that matter. She wanted to leave him in there for at least ten days; that's how long it takes for heroin to fully leave the system, but she wasn't sure that was possible.

"What the hell?" Spike uttered, effectively breaking Faye out of her thoughts.

The door rattled lightly at first then more drastically. He began to bang on the door and shout out to anyone.

"I'm doing this for you own good, Spike!" Faye yelled through the door.

Upon hearing her voice Spike froze. She didn't really think she was going to keep him in that bathroom, did she? If so, then she was more stupid that he gave her credit for.

"I don't know what you think you are doing, _Faye_, but I suggest you open this door right now!"

Every word he said oozed with bitter rage and Faye knew that she couldn't open the door now. He was likely to kill her where she stood for a stunt like this. She listened to him beat on the door and curse for what seemed like hours. She was unable to fathom where he got the strength from to yell and attack so furiously for so long. Suddenly the banging and the screaming stopped. She strained for a moment to hear and then her ears picked up what she thought was crying. But that didn't make sense, though.

"Faye, please? Let me out. I need to get out of here," Spike almost pleaded with her.

Hearing his desperate tone, Faye's heart once again broke. By now she was surprised that the organ was still working to begin with. She slid down the door, slightly nauseated by the turn of events, and felt tears streaming down her cheeks as Spike continued to cry.

"Why should I let you out, Spike?"

"I need it, Faye; I really do. You don't know how this feels. I feel like shit."

"You mean you need the drug?"

"…yes," he whispered.

"Then I'm not letting you out," Faye firmly stated. She knew that's what he wanted anyway but to have him just come out and say it, hardened her heart to his pleas.

"Fine then! Fuck you, you selfish bitch!" Spike yelled, once again bagging on the door. "I hate you! I hate all of you! I hate this ship and this feeling and all of this. I can't believe you, you bitch! Just let me out now or I swear I'll really fuck you up when I get out of here!"

Faye covered her ears and tried her best to tune out his screams. His words where terrifying but she knew that his words were just from withdrawal. He was out again, Faye now knew how to tell. He would always get annoyingly antsy when he was out. And this just confirmed it. It had been at least five hours when he got in the shower; she was surprised he lasted that long. Now it was nearing seven hours. Yes, she had kept him in the bathroom for almost two hours and yet he kept on yelling.

She soon heard the hatch opening and remembered that Jet and Ed had gone out a while ago. Jet made a habit of getting Ed off the ship and away from Spike for a while. It was the only time the girl ever seemed truly happy anymore. Obviously startled by the screams, Faye looked up to see Jet hurrying towards her. Ed was no where in sight – Jet must have told her to go hide somewhere. Jet took one look at the scene in front of him and rationalized that Faye had lost her mind.

* * *

"What are you doing?" He asked bewildered, nearly shouting over Spike's hoarse screams. 

"Honestly Jet? I have no idea."

"How long has he been in there?"

"Almost two hours."

"Faye!" Jet exclaimed, not able to understand her course of thinking.

"What!"

"Get up, we need to let him out."

"Why?"

Jet didn't respond, he just stared at her. Faye pulled herself up and stretched her cramping legs. Bowing her head in mock shame, she handed Jet the key and he undid the lock. Untangling the chain, Jet wrapped it all up and then pushed open the door of the bathroom.

As the two looked in, they gasped in shock at the Spike on the other side. He was a mess. His skin was flushed and his hair was all awry. He was jittering so badly he looked as if he were having a seizure. His hands and knuckles were raw from banging and scratching at the door and his body also had bloody scratch marks as well. Still seeing red, Spike purposefully marched out of the bathroom. He walked right up to Faye, grabbed her roughly by the neck and slammed her body back into the cold, steel wall. He delivered a sharp blow to her abdomen, followed by a quick jab upwards to catch her under her eye.

He moved so fast that Jet hadn't been able to stop his initial attack. Before Spike could hit her again, though; Jet had snapped into reality and pulled the enraged man off of her. Faye fell to the ground with a soft thud and Jet had to use everything had just to keep Spike from attacking her again.

"That stupid bitch!" He shouted, still furious.

"What the fuck are you doing, Spike?" Jet yelled back. "You can't just go around treating a woman like that!"

Jet forcibly carried a struggling Spike back to his room and tossed him in.

"I've put up with a lot of shit from you Spike, a whole lot, and to tell you the truth: I'm sick of it! If you want to fuck up your life then fine, but don't pull the rest of us down with you! And don't you dare treat anyone on _my_ ship like that! As a matter of fact, pack your shit, Spike; I want you off of my ship within the hour! I've had enough and I want you out!"

Spike stared at Jet for a moment. Was he serious? Was he really going to kick him off the ship? He had threatened so many times, but this time Spike was sure that he meant it. And why? Just because he hit Faye? Well, maybe he shouldn't have been so rough, but still, that just didn't seem like a good enough reason to him. With anger still seeping through his veins, Spike suddenly didn't care anymore.

"Fine then! I'll be more than glad to get off of this heap of shit!" Was Spike's heated response. And with that he slammed the door.

* * *

Jet sighed and ran a hand over his balding scalp. What was his life coming to? Remembering Faye's limp form, Jet turned around and hurried back to her. He found her crumpled on the ground, body slightly shaking. He bent down and picked her up and headed for the common room. He laid her down on the couch and ran back to the bathroom; the scene of the crime. Grabbing the first aid kit, Jet once again hurried back to Faye. 

When he got a good look at her under the light, he could already see the damage Spike inflicted. Her abdomen was burning red and her left cheek was already beginning to turn purple. Wetting a washcloth, Jet began to carefully clean off Spike blood and nurse her wounds.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Faye commented as she saw Jet's frown.

"I kicked him out, Faye," Jet said matter of factly in a gruff voice.

"You did what?" Faye asked, eyes wide.

Stopping abruptly, Jet looked up at her.

"What do you mean? Look at what he did to you! He was bad enough as it is and now he's _hitting_ you? I will _not_ allow that on my ship!"

"Jet, you can't! He needs us! He needs.."

"To get the hell off my ship," Jet finished. "If he needed us then he would have asked for us. Or at least not been such an ass about everything. I want him gone and the sooner the better."

Faye pushed him away and stood up, anger in her eyes.

"You can't do that, Jet, you just _can't_!"

"Why?"

"He _needs_ us and we need him!"

"I don't need that lousy, good for nothing drug addict!"

"Yes you do! We all do!"

"Well, if you need him so damn much, then you can go with him too! I never wanted any of you on my ship in the first place! I always knew you'd all be trouble and you're proving me right! "I've never had anything good happen to me when I trust other." Isn't that one of _your_ lessons, Faye?" Maybe I should have listened to it and gotten rid of you a long time ago!"

"You don't mean that, Jet," Faye said in a surprisingly calm and reassuring voice.

"The hell I don't. We can all just go our separate ways right now and never look back again for all I care! All these months and years with you hell raisers is more than I can take!"

"We can't do that, Jet, and you know it," Faye once again rationalized.

"And why the hell not?"

Faye sighed as she sat down again. It hurt to stand, now that she had been hit in the gut. Taking her cue, Jet sat down as well.

"You need us, Jet. Just like we need you. I don't think we've all been tossed on this ship for shits and giggles. We've been through so much already. Let's face it, old man; we belong together. I mean, who else is gonna take us in? We've already established the fact that we're all pretty fucked up so it suffices to say that we're only good for each other now. A sad fact, but I believe it's the truth."

Jet sighed. She was right. Faye had a habit of doing that sometimes. They really did need each other. They were too in tuned and too involved with each other to just break apart now. Spike still needed help and they still needed him. This unlikely family was just that; a family, and no matter how far a member sunk, it was their duty to help put them back on the right track. Humbled by the revelation, Jet stood up once more. He rubbed his balding spot and momentarily enjoyed his cool hand on his warm head. He then began to walk down the hall.

"Where are you going?" Faye innocently asked.

"I'm going to tell him he can stay. Besides, if I let him leave now, I'm sure I'll never get back all the money he owes me."

Faye reclined on the couch and let a rare smile grace her features. Things where far from better and 'normal' was never part of the Bebop vocabulary; but at least one positive thing had been established. They where a family. A hideous, mixed up, unlikely assortment of stragglers, but a family nonetheless. And if one went down, they would all go down. Kind of like a marriage, in sickness and in health, this little Bebop family was conjoined at the hip.

* * *

**things kinda got intense this time around. i really didn't like the thought of spike hitting faye, but i think he's just desperate enough to do such a thing. and one of the main themes of my fic really came into focus in this chapter. did you get it? it's big in the last part. well, since this is another long chapter, just one postagain. so until next time, thanks for stoppin' by!**

**-phoenix**


	9. The Lights Over Tharsis City

7. The Lights Over Tharsis City

_

* * *

_

_May 22, 2072_

_I don't know what the bitch was thinking. She's out of her fucking mind, that's my guess. I mean, she locks me in the fucking bathroom and for what? I bet the bitch gets off on tormenting me. But I mean, come the fuck on! Locking me in.the.bathroom. What was she expecting to gain from that? She spouted some shit about helping me, but that's not gonna help me. I think everyone should just leave me the fuck alone and stop trying to help me! I don't want help. And even if I did, I wouldn't ask to be locked in a bathroom. God, that wench…we should've kicked her off the ship ages ago. _

* * *

It had been five tense days since Faye's bathroom stunt. The swelling under her eye had gone down and was replaced by a dark, bluish bruise. It was fading, though, and Faye felt no real pain from it anymore. The hit to her stomach had not been as painful and she thought about that injury even less.

Jet had told Spike that he could stay, and even though the belligerent cowboy shouted that he should still go anyway, he had tossed his bag down and agreed to stay. Jet still grappled with the feelings he had towards Spike at the moment. On the one hand, he was more than ready to get rid of the druggie he once called 'friend'. On the metallic hand, though, Spike was a big part of Jet's life now.

They had been partnered up for over four years and they had both been there for each other through some really rough times. Now that Spike really needed help; more help than Jet was able to give, he wasn't about to turn his back. The black dog would never leave a member of his pack behind.

* * *

Ever since Faye's fiasco, Ed had been hard to keep track of. Jet had told the hacker girl to go to the attic of the Bebop and to stay there until he told her it was okay to come back down. Hearing Spike's shouts loud and clear, Ed was more than happy to steer very clear of him. Even though Jet had told her several hours later that she could come down from her hiding place, she was leery to do so. She had taken a liking to the attic rather quickly.

It was a spacious area that was cluttered with things long forgotten by the outside world. Heck, they were long forgotten by Jet, too. She poked around with Ein by her side, and found a veritable smorgasbord of what she called "oldie moldy anti-tiki antiques", which where hidden in old, dusty boxes. She played in the dingy, white sheets that were thrown over a couple of pieces of broken furniture and she realized that she felt okay up there.

The attic wasn't a place that anyone ever went to. The only time it had been recently disturbed was after Faye beat Jet (though not fairly) at 'odds or evens'. That had lead to a string of outrageous events that ultimately lead to Ed saving the Bebop. Other than that time, though; the ship's inhabitants seemed to have forgotten about the place and that allowed Ed to feel safe and hidden in there. Deciding that she'd stop hogging Faye's bed, Ed made the attic her new sleeping spot.

In the last five days, the only time the girl had been spotted was during dinner. She had a sixth sense about food and as soon as Jet dumped the meal on the plate, Ed was ready and waiting to dig in to the not so culinary confection. And once she was done eating (which only took about 7.5 seconds) she was off again, lost in the bowels of the ship.

Jet and Faye wondered for the first couple of days as to where she disappeared to, but they soon left it alone. The only person on the ship to not evoke Spike's unfounded rage was Jet. The females knew to stay away from that man, especially Ed. The two adults decided that wherever the child was, she was fine there. Away from him and away from the ever present tension of the common room, Ed could stay hidden as long as she wanted to.

* * *

"Jet? Hey Jet?" Spike asked, wondering why the man he sought wasn't with his beloved bonsais. To tell you the truth, Jet's bonsai room looked like shit. The little trees where wilting and tangled in one another. It looked like they had been neglected for weeks. It was an especially odd sight to see, considering Jet loved those trees like he would his own children.

Spike wandered around the ship, passively searching for his missing partner. He looked in the kitchen, the hanger, the deck and the common room, but Jet wasnowhere to be found. The ship was kind of big on the inside, though it was hard to tell from the outside, and Spike wasn't about to search every room for the misplaced man.

Trying one last place for the moment, Spike walked into the control room and was mildly shocked to see Jet sitting by the window, eyes glazed over as he stared across the glittering water. The lights of the city where just starting to flicker on as the sun finally disappeared below the horizon line. Little lights illuminated the water front and made the pier sparkle like a sea of colored diamonds. Spike was unaccustomed to seeing Tharsis so, dare he say, beautiful. Tharsis wasn't really the image that came to mind when he thought of a "beautiful city", but that's what it was tonight.

Wondering briefly what was wrong with Jet and why he was so idle and distant, Spike fought to remember why he was looking for him at all.

"Do you need something, Spike?" Jet asked without turning towards him.

Looking up quickly, Spike realized that Jet had probably known he was there the whole time; his reflection was stark in the rounded window. Taking in a breath to calm his suddenly anxious nerves, Spike verbalized his thoughts.

"I don't know why it really matters, but I guess I've been wondering for a while. Uh…well…where you really gonna kick me off the ship?"

Sighing lightly, Jet turned to face the man. He let his eyes rove over Spike's emaciated form for a moment, wondering how he was even still alive.

"Yeah Spike, I was. You can't just go around hitting women like that. I know what she did was a stupid move, but yours was even more so."

"Oh. Just because I hit her, huh?"

"_No_, Spike, not just because you hit her. You're bringing us all down, man. This drug thing isn't doing anything for anyone. You say that you don't have an addiction or anything, and who am I to put words in your mouth? But you've scared the shit outta Ed, you've decked Faye good, and you're just wasting away right in front of me.

"I guess I was gonna throw you off because I'm tired, Spike. I don't know how to help you and I hate seeing you this way. Faye thinks she's on to something, though I'm sure it's not gonna work, and I guess I just don't want to find you dead in your room one day.

"I'm not used to falling. They called me the Black Dog because once I got my teeth into something, I never let go; I saw it through to the end. With you, I guess I kinda know what the ending is gonna be. I don't want to be a fatalist and I don't want to say I'm givin' up on you, but what can I do? You don't want help and you don't want to be saved. That damn dead look in your eyes say it all.

"So kicking you out would have been more for me than anyone else. But I would have inevitably went looking for you; I couldn't just leave you out there by yourself."

Jet stood up and walked towards Spike, who had a slight gasp formed on his cracked, pale lips. Closing the distance between them, Jet prepared to head out of the room.

"You're family, Spike. It's a stupid concept and a weird thing to say, but it's the way it is. Faye's the one who thought of it. Leave it to that woman to get all sentimental. I'm not gonna leave you behind, Spike. I get it that you don't want help and I get it that this is what you want to do. I wanna stop you; more than you know, but I ain't gonna force it on you. But I'll be...uh…I'll be here for you Spike, until the very end."

Trying to hurry away now, Jet brought a hand up to his right eye, suddenly thankful for the piece of metal there. The tear that he had uncharacteristically shed had gotten trapped , and hopefully was never seen. On his way out, he placed a reassuring hand on Spike's shoulder and then brushed by him. And Jet would have continued on his way, if he hadn't have heard Spike hiss as he slowly clutch his arm.

"You okay, Spike?" asked the aging man, concern apparent in his voice.

"Nothing. Just choked up, I guess," Spike lied through his teeth.

"Once upon a time, you where a good liar," Jet told him as he grabbed Spike's left arm.

"Damnit Jet!" Spike yelled, trying to pull his arm away.

"The hell?" Jet questioned as he tightened his grip on Spike's resisting wrist. Grasping the yellow unbuttoned sleeve, Jet rolled it up passed his elbow. As he went, he gasped at the discoloration to Spike's arm.

By now Spike had stopped struggling. He was tired and surprisingly found that he couldn't wiggle out of Jet's hold. Turning his head away in what seemed like genuine humiliation, he winced when he heard Jet's gasp.

Jet started dumbfounded at Spike's arm. His inner elbow was peppered with needle marks and the skin there was dark and slightly puffy. The discoloration went halfway up his bicep and halfway down his forearm and it looked as if it was causing him great discomfort.

"What the hell is wrong with your arm?" Jet asked, anger rising within him at the sight of it all.

"I must have hit it on something."

"I already told you you're a bad liar, now what is this?"

"Nothing!" Spike yelled as he finally wrenched free from Jet's grip. "It's nothing, Jet. Just mind you own fucking business! I don't ask you what's wrong with _your _arm!"

There it was again. Spike's temper. It was easier to ignite than an old cloth doused in gasoline. All Jet could do was shake his head.

"Fine, Spike. You're right. What you do to yourself is nobody's business but your own. But if you want my opinion…"

"I don't."

"…then I think you should go get that checked out. It looks pretty bad and I read that an infection like that could lead to gangrene, and if that happens, then they'll most likely cut your arm off."

"Thanks, _doc_, but I'm _fine_."

"Yeah, Spike. Just fine."

And with that, Jet finally left the room. He had had more than enough of Spike for the time being. Looking out of the door behind him, Spike held his arm loosely as his embarrassment washed away. So what if Jet had seen? It was no big deal. It was his arm and if it fell off, oh well. He still had another one. Sensing that he was starting to come down, Spike headed back off to his room. Leave it to the people on this ship to break his high. The only comfort that Spike now knew was the one thing that was helping him to kill himself.

* * *

**another chapter, another dose of angst. are you guys still with me out there? are things still plausible and effective? i hope so. well, until the next chapter, then.**

**-phoenix**


	10. Emptiness and Apologies

**nine chapters and a prologue in, i realize that i've forgotten the standard fanfic disclaimer: i do not own cowboy bebop. man, i'm real sorry to the guys who _do_ own it, considering that i haven't given them credit thus far. but i'm givin' it now, so better late then never, right? now that that's out there, on with the story!**

9. Emptiness and Apologies

_

* * *

_

_May 28, 2072_

_I'm out. I'm out. I am completely out. I…I don't know why I let myself get out. I had half a gram left. I was greedy. I pushed it all. It was good but now I'm out. And I'm broke. I have no money. Not one penny. And I need it. I need it so much. I, I feel sick. Christ, my fucking stomach hurts like a bitch! Fuck and my arm! I don't know if it hurts because of my need or because it's messed up. Maybe I should have gotten it checked. But that doesn't matter. I need a hit! I fucking need a hit! I need to sell something. Anything. I don't care what it is; I just need to sell something. Fuck. Seven hours. How did I go seven hours! Shit! Okay, okay; I just need to calm down. Okay, what can I sell? What don't I need? My clothes? Ugh, I don't have a lot of those. Fuck, it hurts! Fine. My gun. I don't need it! I don't hunt as it is and I'll just sell it. No, I can't! That gun's done me a lot of good. But this is still good. I…I just need to sell something. Fine. Yes, I'll sell it. God, I just need that fucking hit so God damn bad!_

_Fine…_

_I'll admit it…._

_I'm an addict. Congratu-fucking-lations._

* * *

Spike pushed from his desk and barely kept himself upright. He felt like absolute shit and he just needed his precious drug more than anyone could understand. He shuffled over to his dresser and pulled open the top drawer. He grabbed his gun, his precious Jericho, and decided that it was about to do him the greatest service. Shoving the deadly steel into his waistband, Spike rushed out of the Bebop. 

He scrambled down the darkened streets and wondered briefly why he only ever saw the night. Then he remembered that he slept all day. Well, he didn't really 'sleep' anymore, more like rolling around in his bed, trying to stave of his next intense craving. And when he finally ventured from his bed, it was for a hit, then food. By then it was dark, but Spike was sure that there was nothing exciting about the day anyway.

Instead of heading right to his dealer, Spike made a quick detour to the seedy pawn shop on Eighth Street. Quickly running inside, glad that the place stayed open till ten, Spike stopped at the counter and waited for assistance.

"Whaddaya want?" Called a gruff voice from the back.

"I'm low on dough and I wanna pawn something."

The shop worker came from back to greet Spike. He was a stocky man in his mid-forties with slicked back, greasy hair, a brown and scruffy goatee, and a scar on his left cheek. He was wearing dark blue jeans, a black shirt, and black leather vest. He was about to say something when Spike cut him off.

"It's an Israeli Jericho 941. It's seven years old, never been broken and has had a lot of use. The guy who gave it to me paid 25.000 woolongs for it so I expect nothing less than 3.000."

The owner looked at Spike funny, not sure why the he was in such a hurry. He took the gun from him and examined it. It was an excellent make and model. And for regular use, the gun was in amazing condition.

"I agree; it's an excellent gun. I'll give you what you asked for. Just fill out these forms and that'll be it. It you want you gun back you can buy it back for the same price in 90 days or less. After that, if you want it, you gotta pay what I ask."

Spike absently nodded as he scribbled down his information quickly. Almost tossing the papers back to the man, Spike held out a hand for his money. As the shop keep counted out his take, Spike felt an emotional tug as it dawned on him that he had just sold his partner in crime. There was a lot of history behind that gun, but when the money was all in his hand, Spike's ability to care disappeared. He crammed the cash into his pocket, muttered a "thank you" to the worker and ran out of the shop.

* * *

Arriving at Fifth Street, Spike hung a right and headed about 600 feet before he made a sharp right into a dirty alley. At the far end stood a man in black khakis and a dark brown sweatshirt. The handle of a knife could be seen sticking out of his pants. The dealer now came armed to his spot every night. 

After he got the shit kicked out of him by his best customer, this dealer made sure to never go unarmed again. As he leaned against the wall, he casually smoked a cigarette, flicking the ashes as he exhaled. Spike was suddenly struck with the realization that he hadn't had a cigarette in over two months. Whoa, he really _was_ addicted to this shit.

The man pushed his self off of the wall, a small smile on his face. Speaking of the devil, his best customer had returned. He always did.

"Hello blue, what can I do ya for?"

"I'm out and I need it real bad man."

To anyone who used to know Spike, his voice would be unrecognizable. It was rough and grating, no longer the soothing baritone that once made women swoon. He licked his cracking lips and dug into his pocket. He pulled out the some crumpled bills and offered them to his dealer.

"Well, looks like someone has some good pocket change tonight, eh?" The dealer chuckled.

It never ceased to amaze the dealer, how hooked these idiots got. They'd keep coming to him until they were tossed in rehab or died. Either way, he'd always have a steady flow of cash. He knew he would never actually take the stuff he sold, though. He'd seen enough people get so fucked up on heroin and he never wanted to turn in to that.

"I'm can spare 400 tonight. How much will that get me?"

"Only 400? Come now, I bet you have a lot more than that," he mocked in a sing song voice.

"I gotta save for next time."

"Ah. Smart man. Four, you say? I think I can spare about five g's for you."

"Good. Here. Now gimme."

"Of course, my friend."

Spike greedily took the bag offered to him. He sat on the dirty ground and pulled out his spoon. He poured a grams' worth of powder into the spoon's depression and brought out his lighter. Flicking the flame to life, Spike put it under the spoon, willing the chemical reaction to go faster. Finally the powder dissolved to liquid and Spike carefully pulled out his syringe. He was starting to shake badly and he prayed that he didn't spill.

Barely able to fill the syringe, Spike quickly tossed the spoon to the ground and pulled up his sleeve. Not having a rubber band with him Spike quickly untied his shoelace and tied it tightly around his upper arm. Seeing his veins begin to bulge despite the fact his arm was still discolored, Spike gave them a tap and winced slightly at how easy the pain came. Pushing that aside, Spike brought the needle to his arm and slowly slid it into his skin. The thought flashed in his mind that he didn't clean the needle or his arm, but the thought went as soon as it came and Spike pushed the plunger and sighed as the sting of the rush hit him.

He smiled a lazy, satisfied smile as he leaned back against the alley wall. Slowly drawing the needle out of his arm, Spike just sat for a while and let the euphoria spread through him. He was certain that he could almost see heaven at that moment; he was _that_ enraptured. But when he heard an "ahem" coming from his left, he opened his eyes and began to stand up.

"I'm glad that I could help you, man, but I do have other customers. So, if you could move it along, I'd greatly appreciate it."

"Huh? Oh, yeah; sure." Spike answered. He re-threaded his shoelace, strolled out of the alley, and headed off. He patted his pockets to make sure he still had his money and his stuff and once he felt the comforting bulges, he continued on his way.

He decided to amble around town for a couple of hours. He looked out over the pier, counted the cracks in the sidewalk from Fourth Street to the Docks, and sat on a bench and started at the stars.

* * *

Spike arrived back to his makeshift home a little after midnight and sighed before ascending up the ramp to the door. Hopefully no one had seen him leave, and even if they did, hopefully they would leave him alone. He pushed the door open and went in. He was almost to his bedroom and almost home free, when the irritating voice of the resident shrew caught his ear. 

"I'm sorry about locking you in the bathroom. I know it was a couple of weeks ago and I'm sure you've forgotten about it; but I'm sorry. That wasn't the best way to help you."

Becoming pissed, and getting angry at the fact that he was getting pissed; Spike summoned all of his patience and barely ground out an answer for Faye.

"It's okay. Think nothing of it." Spike was proud with his self; he got that out with less anger than he thought.

"I just didn't know what to do, you know," she said as she laced and re-laced herslender fingers togehter. "You're killing yourself Spike and I just want to stop you from doing this before it's too late. It's stupid to say, I guess; but I'm just not ready to lose you yet."

Spike could hear the tears in her voice and for some reason it absolutely disgusted him tonight. Fed up, he whirled to face her. Faye immediately knew she was in deep shit.

"You're such a selfish bitch, Faye,"Spike began in a low, menacing tone. "All you do is cry and whine and I'm getting sick of it. You don't care about me. The only person you care about is yourself. You just said it, "_I'm_ just not ready to lose you yet." Well guess what, Faye? I was never yours to being with."

He had backed her up to the wall and now had both arms on the wall on either side of her shaking form. His eyes where cold and calculating, searching for the things that would break the woman down.

"I have no idea what kind of illusions are running through that freeze dried brain of yours but I.Don't.Care.About.You. I never have and I never will. I only deal with you because Jet's so attached to you. Hell, for all I care, you could die tomorrow and it wouldn't phase me one bit.

"You're nothing to me, Faye. You're lucky I ever dealt with you in the first place. After your little _stunt_ the other day, all I know is that if Jet hadn't been there, I _would_ have killed you. I _hate_ you Faye. So much it hurts. I don't want your sympathy or your pity or your anything. You make me sick and if I ever get the chance, I'll take you down with me.

"Now I suggest you leave me alone, _Faye_, and realize that I don't want to have anything to do with you. I'm sure it will be good for your health. Now run along, you fucking _bitch_, and leave me alone. Have I made myself clear?"

Faye slowly nodded, not sure if she trusted her own response. Seeing the fear in her eyes, Spike gave her a sinister smirk and backed away from her. Daring to take a step away from the wall in order to get away from him, Faye was rewarded with a vicious backhand.

"I didn't say you could move. You can leave after me and not a moment sooner."

Once again Faye nodded and returned to the wall. She watched him recede into the shadows and when she was sure he was gone, she slid to the cold, callous floor. The tears that threaten to fall earlier were now flowing freely from her green eyes. She nervously brought her had up to her right cheek and felt it swelling up already. Now she'd have bruised under both eyes, but that didn't matter at the moment.

This drug was really changing Spike and it absolutely terrified her. She was used to Spike making idle threats towards her, but never once did she believe he'd actually be capable of truly hurting her. Now she was sure; he had given her physical proof of such. And his words tonight left no real doubts in her mind that he was just fucked up enough to kill her.

She cried silently to herself as she cradled her legs to her chest. He was beyond help now, she was almost positive of that, and who knows what he was going to do; what he was capable of. She felt herself curling into a fetal position and crying even harder. She knew that this wouldn't help anything, but it was all that she could do.

* * *

**this was one of the sadness parts for me to write. once again, i hate the thought of spike being violent towards faye, but i'm under the impression that spike's mind is so hazy that he doesn't really know what he's doing, and i'm sure he's quite resentful towards faye, since she's trying to help him. but oh well, such is the progression of the fic. that's all until the next chapter, so thanks for stopping by.**

**-phoenix**


	11. I Didn't Mean It

**so i decided to pair this with the last chapter, since this one is kinda short. and i guess these two chapters flow well together.**

10. I Didn't Mean It

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* * *

_

_May 28…scratch that, 29, 2072_

_I didn't mean what I said. Well, not most of it. It's just that the bitch gets on my last nerve and she makes me snap. I guess I didn't need to be so mean. I didn't have to say what I said and I didn't have to hit her. For all I know, she does care about me. Don't know why she would, though. I'd apologize, but what for? She'll only do something stupid again and I'll just have to yell at her again. Unless I really got to her tonight. She did look pretty scared. And slapping her was probably too much. I guess I wonder why I'm like this. Heroin can't _really_ be doing all of this, can it? Jet and Faye keep saying, "I read about this," or, "I read about that." Maybe I shoulda looked up some of this stuff myself. _

_I realize that I'm not doing much for anyone on this ship. They think I don't know, but I hear what they say about me. I know they're fed up with me. I don't blame 'em. Hell, I'd be fed up with me, too, if someone put me through what I put them through. I really should just give up, already. I don't know what I'm hangin' on to. I got no one to live for and no one wants me around, so why keep draining everybody? They'd be better off without me. Maybe then they'd be happy. They could catch a bounty without wondering if I'm O.D.ing or something and then they could fix the ship and get outta here and just forget about me. Such a fate for me seems predestined already._

_Wow. I'm getting too deep, here. I just wrote this time to say that I didn't mean it, Faye. I don't think I could ever mean it._

* * *

The sun was hanging loosely in the sky, just barely elevated over the buildings in the city. Jet estimated that it was about eight in the morning and found his self too lazy to check his watch for the actual time. He reluctantly rose from his warm, comforting bed and stretched his long, sleep laden limbs. Considering it was still early, the man with the mechanical arm decided to forgo putting on his normal clothes. His blue striped boxers and white undershirt would suffice for now. 

He grabbed his navy blue robe, pulled in on, and slid on his slippers before heading out of his door. He rubbed a hand over his face in a vain attempt to clear the sleep from his faded blue eyes. Treading slowly through the ship, the ex-cop had to briefly wonder why he insisted on being up so early. He had nothing to do today and he was sure he had earned the luxury of sleeping in, but something about the morning seemed amiss, and it had shoved him from his sleep.

On his way to the kitchen, Jet had to pass by Spike's room. He almost always dreaded it; he never knew what to expect. Some mornings, he would check in on Spike, hoping to see that the man was still breathing while other mornings, he left it all up to chance. Deciding that he felt rather fateful today, Jet passed on by Spike's door and continued on his way.

His eyes were unfocused and half closed so when Jet slightly kicked something that was decidedly malleable, he quickly glanced down to see what it was. To his shock and mild horror, he found Faye cowering on the dark floor. Her slender body was curled up into itself and even from his height, Jet could see that she was shivering.

'At least she's alive,' he passively thought as he bent down to shake her.

"Faye? Faye, what are you doing on the floor?" He asked with all of the concern he could muster at this time of morning. "Faye, c'mon and wake up."

He continued to shake her gently until her eyes finally fluttered open. She peered at him for a while, obviously unable to gage where she was. Pushing herself up on unsteady, cold arms; Faye gazed back up at Jet.

"What are you doing out here? This isn't exactly the best place to sleep," Jet smiled softly, trying to make light of what appeared to be a bad situation.

"Huh?" Faye asked, still slightly disoriented.

She thought hard for a moment and then it all came rushing back to her. Her memories had a habit of doing that lately. She remembered Spike and her attempts to apologize to him. Then he got angry, very angry, and backed her against the wall. He hadn't yelled at her, though. His tone was low and dangerous and did not belie the fact that he would, indeed, harm her if he so saw fit. And then he had hit her. Again. And then she cried. For him and her and, well, the whole injustice of it all.

"I made him mad again, Jet," Faye ventured to say.

"What happened this time?" Jet asked, not sure if her truly wanted the answer. If Spike's anger had left her in a crumpled pile on the floor all night, then it was probably nothing good that came of last night.

"He…he left last night. I waited for him to come back and when he did, I…I tried to apologize to him for the bathroom thing, and when I did, he got really mad at me and then he threw me against…"

"Faye. Faye, calm down," Jet told her, shaking her lightly. What transpired between her and Spike had definitely left her rattled. He had seen Faye upset before, but never so…so afraid. And of Spike? "Start again, and take your time."

"Okay," Faye said, taking a deep breath. "He…he was really mad at me and told me to stay away from him. Then, he, uh…he hit me. Well, not just out of the blue. He was leaving and then I tried to leave and that's when he hit me. I guess it really doesn't make much sense, does it? And then, I guess I just laid down here."

Faye was close to tears and Jet didn't like it at all. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more, something that she wasn't telling him.

"What else, Faye? That was bad, but not enough to scare you like this."

"He…he said he'd kill me," Faye said in barely a whisper.

"What!"

"Well, he didn't actually come out and say it, but I know that's what he meant. And if you could have seen the look in his eyes…" By now, the tears where flowing freely from her jade irises. Normally she would have been embarrassed to be so weak in front of anyone, but this was Jet, and this _wasn't _'normally'.

"He couldn't have meant it, Faye; this is _Spike_ we're talking about."

"If you had seen him last night, then you would think otherwise. He was just so amazingly cold. I can't believe what's happening to him. His behavior has changed so quickly. He's so angry now, so unbelievably violent. And you know it's from the drug."

"I know, Faye; I know," Jet miserably admitted. He helped Faye to her feet and motioned for her to follow him

They ended up in the kitchen and Jet pulled out a chair for Faye to sit down on.

"I'll make you some breakfast, Faye. We have a couple of eggs left. Scrambled, right?"

Faye nodded and felt comforted by the smile that Jet gave her. Even through all of this, Jet still made her feel okay. By no stretch of the means was the older man unaffected by any of this, but he still had a way of keeping things in semi-working order. Faye watched him as he pulled out a skillet and the remaining eggs. In that moment things were almost okay.

* * *

**another day, another chapter, another progression in spike's addiction. things are getting ready to come to a head soon, so be prepared. oh, and the idea for jet cooking eggs for faye was inspired by space raider and her fic "just want you to know who i am". however, eggs are used for good this time. ;) anyway, until next time then.**

**-phoenix**


	12. Holding on to Hope

11. Holding on to Hope

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* * *

_

_May 29, 2072_

_I don't how Jet does it. I'm not sure I want to know. He has a way, though, of making me think that things just may turn out okay. It's seems so unlikely that that could ever happen, but he makes me wanna trust; makes me wanna believe. I…I just can't give up on Spike yet. After last night, I admit that I really am scared of him, but, I dunno, I just so desperately want to believe that he's still in there somewhere. Maybe he just needs something to jolt him back life. God, that sounds so stupid._

_But Christ, last night I'm not sure if I have ever been that afraid before. The look in his eyes was nothing I had ever seen before. I've hunted a lot of bounties and I've faced a lot of killers, but the look in Spike's eyes where purely murderous. And why shouldn't it be? He's killed before, hasn't he? He was a part of a syndicate, so of course he's killed before. Hell, he even killed his best friend. Well, ex-best friend. And all for the girl. Well, I hope not _all_ for her. I'll admit that Julia had something worth fighting for, but to die for her…well, she wasn't _that_ special. Call it female intuition. Or perhaps…it's just jealousy. _

_Now I'm not saying I'm in love with that cowboy, far from it. It…it's just that, well…he's become an important part of my life, whether he wanted to or not. Like I've said many times before: this is my family. And that includes Spike. Jet's like my dad; anyone can see the similarities there. From what I remember, my father was a gentle man, though he believed he was much tougher and meaner than he actually was. Kinda like Jet, his bark was much worse than his bite. I was a daddy's girl (surprise, surprise) and I loved him a lot. I don't want to put Jet in that position, but he does make me feel protected every now and then._

_And Ed, that mischievous little hacker. At first I was absolutely annoyed with the girl. She was utterly rage-inducing. But she grows on you fast and now I don't know what it would be like without her. Well, I do. She _did_ leave for a couple of months last year. I didn't say much about it while she was gone and I pretended to be upset when she came back, but truth be told; I was so glad when she showed up again. I was even glad to see the little mutt. In a way, Ed reminds me of my little brother. He had a tendency to be over zealous about everything and he bugged the living shit out of me. He was always on the computer (thanks Bill Gates) and when I tried to get on, he'd very near attack me, much like Ed._

_I guess, when it's all laid out, Spike doesn't really fit into this family equation. I can't really compare him to my mom, that's just too weird. But still, I want him here. I guess he's like my best friend. Or worst enemy, take your pick. But he's there when I need him (or at least he used to be) and even though he'd pick on me until the cows came home, he was still one of the best things in my life._

_Really, I just don't want to lose what I have. After waking up from cryo and not having anything to go back to, finding these misfits gave me a sense of belonging and I don't want to lose any part of that. And Spike is our glue. Why would we choose the sketchiest member to keep us together, I don't know; but we did. If he goes, I'm afraid we'll all drift apart, and I just don't want that. I don't want to be alone again._

_So I guess he was right, I really _am_ selfish. Am I doing this for him or am I doing this for me? I want to say both, but is it really? Yes. I'm sure it is. I want him to be better _and_ I don't want to lose him. I can have both agendas and still mean well, of this I am sure. _

_It's kind of off topic, but I've been reading his journal. Some of his entries are truly terrifying. He really _is_ depressed. He really wants to die. I don't know how he got to this point, though. I've read all he's written, yet it still doesn't make sense! He acts like no one cares about him and that's just not true! Without his precious _Julia_, he's acting like he world has come to a crashing halt! I just don't know why he can't see that _we_ care about him. That _I _care about him. _

_I'll say it again; I don't know what to do. I have no idea why I thought this diary would work. I don't know why I'm so helpless in all of this. It's like maybe we should have just shoved him in rehab, but he would have left, or got kicked out. And he doesn't want help, so how can we give it to him? I hate feeling like this. I hate him._

_No, I don't hate him, I never could. I'm just afraid for him…afraid _of _him. Maybe I should just start to pull away from him and realize that he won't make it. NO! I WILL NOT GIVE UP ON HIM! Not until it really is over. And I pray that it will never be over. I know it's pathetic, but I'd take care of him and his habit everyday for the rest of my life if I knew that could keep him. Christ, that's really pathetic…but I don't care. It's funny how it all works, isn't it? I guess I'll just let the chips fall as they may, and whether the flop is good or bad, I'll take it as it comes. It's what Poker Alice would do, anyway._

_Now, I think I've spent enough time wallowing in pity and such. I slept on the floor last night! I need a shower and then a nap. After all, this body isn't going to keep itself beautiful, right?_

* * *

Ed was furiously typing away on her Tomato as she hummed some made up song. She was sitting on the table in the common room, finally leaving the safety of her attic behind. Jet had requested her services and she was more then glad to help. She was in the process of searching for sizeable bounties in the Tharsis City region.

Jet had had enough sense to stash away money for a rainy day, but there had been months' worth of rainy days as of late and there was still no end in sight. After finding Faye in a heap yesterday morning, Jet decided it was time to do something. Finally deciding to stop being lazy (and realizing that his stash had dwindled to less that 700 woolongs), Jet decided that he'd get away from the oppressive atmosphere of the Bebop and hunt.

It hadn't helped that Jet had been shot in the leg, though. That definitely put hunting on hold for him for a while. The wound to his leg had been more substantial than originally thought. It had ripped through the muscle and tore some ligaments. Jet recovered fully, though, not even a small limp was left behind; but he had required a lot of bed rest in the end. And to push all of the bounty catching responsibilities on Faye would have been unfair.

It'd been far too long and Jet had become far too restless. His leg was healed, his funds were low, and he was tired of the gloom. And besides, he knew of two females who would greatly appreciate a night away from the ship's foreboding nature, as well.

"Captain Jet person, Ed has found a good bounty county man for you! His name is Kurtis Woodrow and he is wanted for armed robbery and aggravated assault with a deadly weapon!" Ed squealed, seemingly happy to be of help to Jet.

"How much is he worth, Ed?"

"2.500.000 woolongs! Not a tiny small fry but not a big rig pricey, either!"

"That'll do, Ed. Find out where he is."

"Aye, aye captain Jet person!"

Jet leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes. He had to admit to himself that he missed the clacking of keys as Ed typed away in her cyberspace fantasy world. For a moment, things almost seemed to be getting back to the Bebop's definition of 'normal'.

"Ed has found that he is living in the Red Globe Apartments on South Edmont Street, room 243! He is not a very smarty arty man, but he does have a lot of shot 'em up, bang-bang guns, so be careful, Jet person!"

"Thanks, Ed. Just print that out and I'll get going."

"Why are you going for a bounty now, Jet person? No one has gone bounty hunting since Spike person came back."

"You remember my rainy day fund, Ed?"

The girl eagerly nodded her head.

"Well, it's almost all gone. And besides; we need to get this damn hunk of junk fixed and get outta here already!" Jet said with a grin on his face, more to ease the girl then for his sake.

"Yeah! Fix the Bebop Bebop and fly into the space, race, smiley face!"

And with that, Ed hopped from the table and was zooming down the hallway; Ein yipping happily at her heels. Jet shook his head as his smile remained. He picked up the pages that Ed printed out and went to get his gun and his cuffs. Checking his self over one last time, Jet hurried out of the door. It was just before noon and the guy didn't live too far from the dock. If Jet played his cards right, then he'd be 2.500.000 woolongs richer and home before dark.

* * *

**aww, this chapter got happier in the end. it's been a while since we've seen a ray of light. but is it gonna last? well, go read the next chapter, i posted 2 this time around, again.**

**-phoenix**


	13. But What About Your Leg?

12. But What About Your Leg?

* * *

"Ed? Faye? Go put on something nice! We're having lobster tonight!" Jet yelled as he burst through the Bebop door. 

"Are you serious!" Faye screeched as she bounded in to greet him. "How can we afford that? I swear, Jet; if you're lying to me…"

"I'm not lying, Faye. I just caught myself a 2.5 mill bounty and I feel like celebrating!"

"What? _You_ went hunting? But what about your leg? And why in the hell didn't you tell me you were going?"

"My leg is fine, woman; and I wanted to do this alone. Not stop your bitching and go get dressed! I'm starving!"

"God, Jet; I fucking _love_ you!" Faye said as she encompassed Jet in a hug. She placed a kiss on his cheek and ran to get ready.

Jet was glad she didn't look back; he didn't need for her to see him blush. He was sure he'd never hear the end of that. As Jet went to put his hunting gear away he realized that he hadn't asked Spike to go. He really wanted to leave the cowboy behind; he would only bring the night down. But Jet had to ask him, anyway. His conscience would never let him live it down if he didn't.

"Uh, Spike? You in there?" Jet asked with much trepidation.

He heard some scuffling and some muted curses, and then the sound ofsomething knocking over. Finally the door opened slightly and Spike's head peeked out. His eyes where bloodshot, his skin was flushed, and he was breathing heavily.

'I caught him shooting up,' Jet somberly though.

"What do you want, Jet?" Spike asked, surprisingly calm in his response

"Uh...well…I, uh just caught a bounty and decided to got celebrate with dinner. The girls are getting ready and I wanted to invite you along, too."

"Should you be hunting yet? What about your leg?"

"My damn leg is fine! Christ, does everyone think I'm _that_ old? I do still have the ability to _heal_, ya know."

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Jet. Just concern. Uh, where are you going?"

"Some place that serves lobster," the ex-cop said with a satisfied grin on his face.

"That sounds good, but I don't think so."

"Oh come on, Spike! I worked hard for this money and now I want to treat everybody!"

"I just don't feel like going out tonight, Jet. Sorry, pal. You can bring me back a lobster, though," Spike reasoned, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Yeah, sure. Well, if you change you mind before we leave, just let me know."

"Right, will do," and Spike closed the door.

Jet sighed and headed back to the main room. He couldn't force Spike to go. Well he could, but that would just look funny. In a way, he was glad Spike wouldn't be there, but then again; he wanted to include the guy just because that's what family's do.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Faye emerged, more than ready to go. She had on dark blue jeans that fit well, but not too tight, accented by a light blue, v-neck sweater with quarter length sleeves. Her hair was no longer restrained by a headband, but allowed to hang freely around her narrow face. Silver sandals with a slight heel covered her feet and matched the small silver purse Faye carried. 

Jet looked at her approvingly. He thought she looked much more attractive when she left things to the imagination. Or perhaps he was just being over protective, again. Either way, she looked good and he suddenly wondered if he was underdressed.

He wore a simple pair of blue jeans, a black shirt and a dark blue jacket over that. He shrugged, though; he didn't need to look fancy to enjoy a meal. But what really surprised him was Ed, who peeked out from behind Faye. It appeared the female bounty hunter had gotten to the girl. She now had on blue jeans as well, a green shirt and a light purple sweater over that. Not the best color combinations, but a change from her normal spandex shorts and white half shirt.

"You two look good," Jet said with a supporting nod.

"You, too, old man," Faye playfully countered.

"Yay, old man, Jet man!" Ed happily yelled.

Jet sighed and rolled his eyes and headed out the door.

"Isn't Spike coming?" Faye cautiously asked.

"No. He opted to stay in."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"…No. But we can't make him go."

"I guess you're right."

The short conversation between the two was tense and awkward. They both didn't want him there, but then again, they did. They were reluctant to leave him behind, but what could they do.

The three were heading out of the door when they were stopped by sad whimpering.

"Oh Ein doggy," Ed addressed, "You cannot go into the eaty restaurant. But Ed promises she will bring you back a yummy doggy bag, okay?"

The dog barked in response, placated, but still not fully pleased.

"Be good and take care of Spike person," Ed commanded.

Once again, the dog barked in accordance. Jet and Faye exchanged glances, relieved that Ed still cared about the lunkhead, even after he had yelled at her. But Ed had her own reasons to want to watch out for Spike. She still vividly remembered him on the deck that night. She just wanted him to be okay. But the rumble of her stomach and the thought of real food stopped her worrying and she quickly rushed out of the door.

"Well, I guess that means "let's eat"," Jet chuckled.

"Guess so," Faye said. And with that, she closed the door behind them.

* * *

**so two more chapter for all you lovely readers. our beboppers are gonna go and treat themselves, and boy do they deserve it. it kinda looks like things are on the up and up. "looks like", being the operative words, there. what do i mean by that? (shrugs) we'll find out eventually. well then, thanks for stopping by, why not leave a review, and until next time then!**

**-phoenix**


	14. So it Has Come to This

13. So it Has Come to This

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_

_May 30, 2072_

_They just left for dinner. Jet caught a bounty. Good for him. I'm glad to see that his leg really is okay. I would have liked to have gone with them, God knows I could use some real food, but if I don't do this now then I don't know when I'll get the guts to do this again. _

_I tried an experiment last night. I decided to see how long I could go without a hit. I made it ten hours. And they were the worst ten hours of my life. It felt like my skin was freezing off but I was sweating like a fucking pig. My whole fucking body hurt and I thought I was gonna puke up my stomach. It was all I could think about for ten whole hours. The only conscious thought in my head was, "I need a hit". I really am addicted to this shit and I don't now how to stop. I _can't_ stop. _

_But for a few minutes, between want and need, I had a chance to think about things. I mean _really think_. I've been an ass. An absolute ass. These people, my _family_, have been doing every damn thing they could to snap me outta this and I just wasn't budging. I yelled at Ed and in turn, I broke something in her. I made her think of something that hurt her so much, though I'm not sure what that was. It was unfair of me to do that to her. And I don't even remember why I yelled at her in the first place._

_And even though Jet won't come out and show it, I know I've let him down. He's been rooting for me cause that's what good friends do, but I just have refused everything they've given me. I'm disgusted with myself for this and I know he is too. And I know he hates me for yelling and Ed and for hitting Faye._

_God, Faye. She's gotten the brunt of all of this. She's the one who's done the most to help me and I've hated her for that. I didn't want to be fixed, and I definitely wouldn't have wanted her to fix me anyway. I hated her for being alive. I hated her because she wasn't Julia. I don't know why I pitted them against each other, but I did, and Faye got the shaft every time._

_She isn't like Julia. I'm glad for that. Julia would have never tried so hard to save me. And I guess that's another reason why I hated Faye so much. She was fighting a losing battle from the very beginning, but she just kept going. So unlike what Julia would have done. _

_It's really stupid to say, so I don't know why I am. I guess I just want to hear how it sounds; see how it looks. I love Faye. Yeah, stupid; I know. But I do. I'm not sure what kind of love, exactly; but I have love for her. I can't quite say thatI'm _in_ love with her, though. And yep, that also made me hate her more. I mean, how dare _she_ make _me_ feel something I didn't want to? You know, how dare _she_ try and replace Julia. But she was never trying to replace anyone. She just tried to be there for me. _

_So I apologize to everyone. I'm sorry to Ed. I never should have yelled at her. If I could take it back, I would in a heartbeat. She deserves her innocence and who was I to break that? And I apologize to Jet. He gave up a lot to accommodate me ever since I showed up on his doorstep. Funny, really; the irony of it all. The Bebop is where I stumbled to, bloody and half dead after I escaped the Syndicate. He didn't ask questions, just gave me a place to get better. I never left and I really appreciate the fact that he didn't make me. I'll finally get off of his ship, now. I'll leave the way I came, except this time the wounds will prove fatal._

_And I apologize to Faye the most. I hit a woman. Three times. I've never done that before. No woman deserves that. _Faye_ doesn't deserve that. I guess I wish I could have been better for her. Someone she could count on, ya know? For all she did for me, guess it would've been nice to do at least one good thing for her. Oh well. C'est la vie as I once heard someone say._

_It's weird how your impending death can really put things in perspective. I've stared death in the face a lot of times, but my thoughts have never been so clear. Or perhaps my thoughts are so mottled that I _believe_ they're clear. Either way, I guess I've never been so sure of my death until now. I've finally got the balls. I'm going to kill myself. _

_It won't be too hard, I guess. I have five grams. I'm gonna push it all. I've never done that much. I'm sure I never will again. I also have four vicodin left over from when I got out of the hospital. I figure that if I wash that all down with the half bottle of hard vodka that's sitting on my desk, then that should pretty much seal the deal. I decided that I couldn't shoot myself or cut my wrists. I don't like pain, despite popular belief, and I don't want them to have to do too much clean up after me. _

_So I guess this it is. My final goodbye. Guess the journal was good for something. If they ever read this, they'll at least know I cared. I didn't show it, that's for fucking sure; but I really did. So I'm gonna go know. If I keep writing I'll just chicken out and I want to be gone before they get back. No need seeing me almost dead. Uh…so, yeah. That's it. I don't know what else to say, so I guess I'll just end with "bang"._

* * *

Spike decided to leave the journal open. It'd save them time when they found his body. He went over to his bed and sat down. He leaned his back against the wall and stretched out. If he was gonna die, he might as well be comfortable. He took a long swig of the vodka and winced as it slid angrily down his throat. He then popped two of the vicodin and washed them down with another gulp of the alcohol.

Pulling out his spoon, Spike poured as much powder as he could fit on it. It took him a little while to melt down all five grams, but he finally accomplished that and filled his trusty needle. Tying his arm off just above the elbow, Spike gazed at the discoloration there. He often times forgot about the infection, he was usually so high that the ache never registered. He shrugged and figured that it didn't matter anymore. Tapping his veins for the last time; Spike slowly slid the needle into his arms. Letting out a shaky breath, he applied pressure to the plunger and tossed his head back as he felt the liquid mix with his blood.

Removing the needle, Spike quickly downed the last two vicodin and the rest of the vodka. He laid on his side and wondered how long it would all take. As far as he was concerned, he felt like he could get up and fly right now. His head was spinning at a million miles a second and he didn't know up from down. He closed his eyes and tried to stop his sensation of vertigo, but it was to no avail.

Suddenly, he felt as if he couldn't breath. He repeatedly gasped for breath, but his lungs refused to fill. He launched up from the bed, but was so disoriented, he quickly lost his balance. On his rapid descent to the floor, Spike's forehead caught the edge of his bedside table and he cursed out loud at the sharp pain he felt there. He tried to rise again, but there was pain in his stomach _so_ intense, he though something was going to tear from his midsection at any moment.

Spike fell back to the ground, desperately clutching his stomach. He wanted to reach for a blanket at that moment, for he had grown surprising cold, but his skin was clammy and drenched in cool sweat, and his body simply wouldn't allow for such movement. Behind his eyes, bright colors danced around in a nauseating rhythm and before Spike realized it, he was empting his already vacant stomach onto the barren floor.

Rolling away from the spot, Spike moaned out loud and suddenly wondered what in the hell he was thinking. This hurt worse than all of his gunshot wounds combined, and then some. He soon found his body contorting in an array of poses. His muscles spasmed with furious cadence and he realized that he could no longer control his body. Tasting blood, Spike was shocked to find that he had nearly bitten his tongue in half. The pain in the rest of his body obviously blocked some of his other pain receptors. As he spit the blood on the floor, Spike began to feel an extreme wave of drowsiness come over him. His body was still in spasms and his insides still felt on liquid fire, but he was so suddenly sleepy that he didn't really care anymore. Lowering his head to the rest on the hard metal, Spike's fleeting thoughts were of the one thing that had really brought him true joy in his life. His family. With a stained groan, Spike cried out once more.

"I'm…sorry…" where the last words Spike said.

* * *

Ein, the data dog, was woken from his sleep by a pained wail. Rising from his doggy bed, he followed the sound down the dark hall of the Bebop. He was mildly surprised when he saw that the sound emanated from Spike's room. He scratched on the door to be let in, but nothing happened.

His ears perked up as Ein heard the man's groans increase. The little corgi was becoming increasingly worried by the second. Suddenly, Ed's words sounded in his mind.

"Take care of Spike person."

Sensing that Spike person was in dire need to be taken care of, Ein frantically jumped up, trying to reach the door knob. Cursing his stubby legs, Ein gave a desperate whine before he finally got the handle to turn. The miniature dog quickly ran into the room and stopped dead in his tracks. There in front of him lay the man he was supposed to protect. His body was shaking in uncontrollable fits and the smell of blood and alcohol struck Ein's sensitive nose like a fist. Hearing the downed man utter something, the dog inched closer to him.

Almost immediately, the shaking body ceased its movements. Alarmed and fully alert, Ein approached Spike's face and forcefully barked at him, demanding him to get up. When he got no response, Ein decided to lick Spike's face. He had earned many a kick for this stunt, but at the moment, the dog didn't care.

After several minutes of licking and still no response, Ein knew conditions were grave. Thinking quickly, the dog dashed out of the room and ran to Ed's computer as fast as his data dog legs could carry him. Upon reaching the contraption, Ein carefully tapped in the numbers for the police with his muzzle and thanked his maker that he was genetically enhanced.

"Tharsis City Police Department, how may I help you?" An unusually perky female operator answered.

"Help! One of my masters is hurt and he needs help immediately!"

"Huh? Sir, tell you dog to be quiet and repeat what you just said, please."

"What? I _am_ the dog." Then Ein remembered that he could not talk. While he made perfect sense in his head, he couldn't convey the emergency in human terms. He continued to bark at the screen, anyway.

"Hey Marty! We got some kinda smart dog over here! He's barking about something. What should I do?"

"Hang up. Don't waste time with some dog trick; there are real emergencies, _Karen_."

"Fine, geez, Marty. You don't have to be so mean. Well sorry, poochie. It's a cute trick, but next time, don't call us, 'kay?"

And with that the phone hung up. Ein was blown away by the stupidity of people. He was at a loss, his options were limited. He didn't know how to get in touch with the rest of the Beboppers, so it was just him and Spike.

Hanging his head in defeat, Ein went back to Spike's comatose form. The tiny dog could feel the slightest breath coming from the man, but he knew that that would probably stop at any moment. Curling up by Spike's chest, Ein rested his head on a fallen arm. It's true that the two never got along. In fact, Ein had made it his mission to chew up everything Spike owned. But right now that wasn't important. A member of his pack was down and there was nothing he could do. The corgi didn't know if Spike was going to die, but either way, he wouldn't let him stay alone. Whimpering once more, Ein licked Spike's cooling fingers and waited for everyone to come back home.

* * *

**he really did it. spike really comitted suicide. how crazy is that? and poor ein, the only one there. it's a tragedy, really. it's sad what a drug can do to a person. it'll be interesting to see how the bebop crew react that's for sure. oh, and is spike _really _dead? there's a few chapters left, so only time will tell. well, thanks for stoppin' by, you stay classy, and until next time.**

**-phoenix**


	15. The Nurses at Tharsis General

**remember what happened in the last chapter? well, let's see how the rest of the beboppers feel about spike's little stunt...**

14. The Nurses at Tharsis General

* * *

"That was the best meal I've ever had!" Faye exclaimed as she came in through the Bebop's door."

"Yum! Ed is so full!"

"It was a good meal, that's for sure. I hope Spike like's the leftovers," Jet said as he closed the door.

Faye was about the plop down on the couch and let her meal digest when she noticed paw prints on the table. Normally she wouldn't have really cared, but the prints were the color red. A lot like _blood _red. Deciding no to chance anything, Faye got up and followed the prints, which became thicker as she went.

'This won't end well,' Faye thought. It looked as if the resident mutt had gotten himself hurt. Faye prayed that he wasn't hurt too bad. Ed would go crazy if anything happened to that dog.

When Faye approached the end, or rather beginning, of the prints, her heart stopped. The tracks came from Spike's room. Faye inched slowly to the door, terrified at what she might find. Now her heart was racing as fear spurned the erratic beat on. She rounded the door frame as slow as she could and felt her world shatter at what she saw.

Sprawled on the floor among blood, vomit, needles and a dog, was Spike Spiegel. His body was contorted and he wasn't moving. Unable to think, Faye rushed to him and pushed the whining dog out of the way.

"Spike? Spike! Wake up! Spike! For fuck's sake, wake the hell up!"

The tears didn't hesitate to stream down Faye's pale cheeks. She shoved Spike violently, unable to wake him. She searched for a pulse and couldn't find one.

"Damnit, Spike! Don't do this! Please, get up!"

She pushed him some more, but still nothing worked. She tried again for a pulse and was almost stunned to find one. It was incredibly weak and barely there, but there nonetheless.

"Jet…" she mumbled. "Jet. Jet! Jet! Please, anyone! Spike need's help! Jet, please!"

Jet looked up from the fridge. He was situating their leftovers when he heard Faye's desperate pleas. Not even closing the door, he ran to her voice. On his way, he passed a curious Ed.

"Stay in here, Ed. I mean it. Do not leave this room!"

As he ran to Faye, Jet knew something was terribly wrong and Ed didn't need to see it. As he skidded to a stop in front of Spike's room, his jaw dropped and all he could do was stare.

"Jet, please. Don't just stand there; he's dying. We have to get him to a hospital."

Jet's eyes landed on Faye, unable to comprehend it was her voice he had just heard. She was so quiet and so meek, so very unlike Faye. She sounded like a lost child that had just found her kitty dead in the backyard.

"Jet! Please!" She cried.

Snapping out of his surprise, Jet rushed in and lifted Spike's prone body from the mess it was in. He had a habit of picking people up off of the floor lately, but he was in too much of a confused rush to notice.

"Come on, Faye. There's enough gas in the Hammerhead and the Red Tail to make it to the hospital. I'll take Spike in my ship and you take Ed in yours. And bring the dog, too; for Ed's sake. Faye, now!"

She looked up at him and nodded dumbly. Rising from the floor, she walked on shaking legs behind Jet. Ed was in tow, bringing up the rear. She was clutching her bloody dog and sobbing already.

"Can you make it, Faye?" Jet asked as he placed Spike in the ship.

Again, all she could do was nod.

"Okay. I'll meet you there."

Faye watched as Jet took off en route to the nearest hospital. Unsteadily, Faye lifted Ed and Ein into her ship and then pulled herself into the cockpit. Taking off after Jet, she was surprised that there were no thoughts in her head. She just absent-mindedly flew after the Hammerhead, unable to understand what was happening.

"Faye Faye?" Ed asked in a hushed voice.

"Huh?" Faye barely registered Ed's questioning tone.

"Is Spike person dead?"

"…No, Ed."

"Is Spike person going to die?'

"…I don't know, Ed. I don't know."

* * *

The nurses at Tharsis City General Hospital were not apt to shock when it came to what entered through the emergency room doors. As it were, Tharsis was home to many a rival syndicate, so the nurses often times encountered severed limbs, gunshot wounds, shattered bones and things of that nature. So when the night shift nurses stood with their mouths slightly agape at the sight in front of them, then it was safe to say that they had never seen this particular sight before.

Standing in front of nurses' station in the emergency room, was a man about 6' 3". He was dressed in dark blue pants, a black t-shirt and a blue jacket. His head was balding on the top and his worried face was covered in a bushy, black beard. From what they could see, the man had at least a metal hand, which wasn't an every day feature, considering the wonders of modern technology. But perhaps the oddest thing about this man's appearance was what he was holding.

In his arms was a lanky, comatose man with outrageous green hair. His long limbs hung lifelessly under him and his old, blue suit was wrinkled and messy. Blood mixed with vomit leaked from his blue, cracked lips and clung to his cheeks. From where the nurses stood, the man did not appear to be breathing. Continuing to take in the sight presented before them, none of the nine nurses in the room dared to make a move.

"Hey! Can't you see this guy needs help here?" The man shouted at the workers.

"Huh? Oh, of course. Right this way sir, quickly," a nurse with green scrubs and white shoes spoke up. She was a thin nurse with dark brown hair and a stethoscope hanging around her neck. The name tag on her left breast pocket read "Hi, my name is Josie: how may I help you today?"

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Jet followed the nurse to an emergency room near the back of the hospital. Obeying the nurse's instructions, Jet placed Spike on the gurney and then was abruptly pushed back as more nurses flooded into the room. A doctor dressed in black slacks, a lilac dress shirt and a white lab coat, quickly followed.

"I'm Dr. Nealon," he addressed to Jet in an authoritative voice. "Can you tell me what's wrong with him?"

"He uh…well, ah…"

"Sir, an answer, please. If you know anything, tell us so we can better help him," the doctor almost demanded.

"My uh, my family and I went out for dinner and we left him at home. When we got back about twenty minutes ago, uh…we found him in his room on the floor. I'm not sure what happened, but I think he overdosed."

"Overdosed on _what_?" Dr. Nealon asked as he looked towards Jet.

"…Heroin," Jet said in a low voice, ashamed to find himself in such a position.

"I thought as much," the doctor said, turning back to the man on the table. "He has the classics symptoms of a heroin O.D. You'd be surprised how many cases we see each month."

Jet barely responded. He watched as one nurses, he name tag called her Sarah, ripped off Spike's shirt and gasp at the infection on his left arm. Shaking out of her shock, she went to his other arm and put an IV in and started a drip of some liquid that Jet couldn't discern. Another nurse, Molly this time, stripped Spike of his pants and began to check the pulse in his feet. The doctor checked on his temperature and then started to question Jet some more.

"What's his name?"

"Spike…Spiegel."

"And your name?"

"Jet Black."

"Age?"

"Thirty-seven."

"_His_ age."

"Oh, sorry. Twenty-seven…he, uh…he'll be 28 in June."

"Do you know how long he's been like this?"

"No…he was like this when we got home."

"How long where you out?"

"About three…no, four hours."

"I hope he hasn't been like this for that long," Nealon sighed as he said something to nurse Josie.

Nurse Sarah quickly ran out of the room and when she came back she had some sort of tube and pump in her hand. Jet staggered back and out of the way as he watched the ER staff work to save his friend. In the back of his mind, Jet could hear the light, few and in between beeps of the heart monitor. Those beeps signified that Spike was alive. Barely, but still something to fight for.

Dr. Nealon went to Spike's head and grabbed a silver, metal tool that Jet could not make out. The doctor then tilted Spike's head back, inserted the metal thing and peered into his mouth.

"Suction! The fool's gone and almost bit his tongue off," Nealon said in frustration.

Once suction had been applied, the doctor grabbed the tube that the nurse had brought in and slid it down Spike's throat. When the tube was in as far as it would go, the doctor removed the silver instrument and attached the end of the pump-like contraption to the end of the tube. With the flick of the switch, the machine hummed to life and Jet could then see something being sucked into the tube.

"It's a gastric lavage," Dr. Nealon explained. "Basically, it's a stomach pump. We need to get whatever's in his stomach, out. Immediately. Then we'll send a sample up to the lab and determine what all he took. Most of the heroin sold on the street is cut with something like sugar or flour or even detergent.

"Once his stomach is empty, then we'll unhook the pump and attach a funnel to the end. We well then pour in medical charcoal in order to absorb any remaining substances that we couldn't suck out."

Jet nodded deftly at the doctor. It all made sense, and yet it made no sense at all.

"If you could, sir, I have to ask you to go to the waiting room. I'll be out as soon as I can to update you on your friends condition. Nurse Sarah will show you were to go."

Jet was reluctant, but he left Spike in the hands of the doctor and his nurses. He followed Sarah to the waiting room and was met by a crying Ed and a yelling Faye. She was arguing with the nurses about letting Ein into the building. Normally the nurse would have had the dog immediately removed, but the tone of Faye's voice truly scared the young nurse into letting the dog stay, provided it never leave Ed's arms.

When Faye whipped around and saw a bewildered Jet standing there, she ran and threw her arms around him. She didn't have the strength to cry at the moment, her sudden outburst had drained whatever strength she had been saving. Jet carefully disengaged her and sat her in the chair next to Ed.

"Is Spike person okay?" Ed asked through her tears.

"The doctors are working on him right now, Ed. They're gonna do everything they can to help him. Don't worry," Jet tried his best to reassure the girl, but he was having trouble even reassuring himself at the moment.

Ed gave an understanding nod and went to sit in Jet's lap. At first he was taken aback by the girl's actions, but then he relaxed and let her curl up with Ein. Closing her eyes, Faye leaned onto Jet's shoulder and let out a shuddering sigh.

Finding himself in an odd position, Jet just shrugged it off and leaned back in the chairs. He rested his head on the wall and tried not to think about what the doctor was doing to Spike. He closed his eyes and put one arm around Faye and supported Ed with the other. The little corgi dog shook his head as he yawned and then returned to his head spot on Ed's arm.

As a few nurses walked by, for the second time that night, they witnessed a sight never before seen. There, in the corner of the waiting room, was the same man with the mechanical hand. But this time, he had his arm around an attractive young woman with purple hair. On his lap was a stringy girl with wild red hair and in her arms was a tan and white little dog with bloody paws. Shaking their heads and wondering if it was a full moon tonight, the nurses went on with their work.

* * *

**though this chapter was kind of a bear to write, i kinda had fun with it, too. i think the medical jargon got to me, since i'm goin' to school to become a doctor and all. also, i liked the nurses. to me, they added a bit of happiness to this dreadful time. do you agree? why not drop me a review and let me know. well, hopefully we'll find out spike's fate in the next chapter. until next time then, and thanks for stopping by!**

**-phoenix**


	16. Please Don't Go

15. Please, Don't Go

* * *

"Mr. Black? Mr. Black, wake up."

Jet's eyes flew open as he looked towards the source of the voice that had called his name. He was slightly disoriented until he saw the name tag "Dr. Nealon". Then he remembered it all. Spike was in the hospital. Then, a flash of distress ran through Jet. How could he sleep at a time like this? How long had he been asleep? And most importantly, how was Spike?

"Uh, yes. How is he, doc?"

"Well," the doctor stared, once again eyeing the peculiar scene in front of him, "we've been working on Mr. Spiegel for about three hours and it turns out your friend had more in his stomach then we though. There was a lot of heroin in his system, over four grams I believe. But he also had four pills worth of vicodin in his stomach, as well. It looks like he mixed that all up with over half a bottle of strongalcohol, and then waited for the reaction to occur.

"After the charcoal treatment, we gave him two doses of a narcotic antagonist to stop the heroin from reacting any further. He coded twice with us, he was very badly damaged. We shocked him the second time and now we have a stable sinus rhythm. I put a few stitches in his tongue to fix the damage there; he had bitten almost all the way through it. His speech will be impaired for a few days, but we should be able to take the stitches out in a day or two. We are injecting sugar water into him to keep him from dehydrating. We are also monitoring him closely and the next twenty-four hours will be quite critical for him.

"The infection in his arm is advanced, but his arm can be saved. We've cleaned it, flushed out the wounds and wrapped if after applying strong antibiotics to the site. The infection, however, is not the only damage he has suffered. Through our preliminary test, we can see that he has sustained minor heart damage. Some of the vessels that run across his heart have been injured. If he survives, it shouldn't limit him too much, but in his weakened state, it will hurt more than it will help.

"We have wheeled him to the ICU on the fourth floor and as I said, the next twenty-four hours will be critical. Do you have any questions for me?"

Jet just stared at the doctor. Any questions? Yeah, what did he just say? By now, Faye and Ed had woken as well, and all three of them wore masks of confusion.

"Perhaps I have unloaded too much on you too fast," the Doctor assumed.

"Yeah…it's just a lot to take in," Jet said. "Oh, um…this is my, well…family. This is Faye and the one in my lap is Ed. And I know dogs aren't technically allowed, but this is Ein. The nurse said we could keep him if he never left Ed's arms."

"It's nice to meet you all," Dr. Nealon smiled. "I don't mind about the dog, but I am sure you would like to see your friend, right?"

"Yes!" Faye blushed, she hadn't meant to yell. "I mean, yes…it'd be nice to see him."

Smiling at the threesome, well foursome if you count the dog, Dr. Nealon led them all to the elevators. Upon arriving at the fourth floor, the doctor checked in with the nurses and headed to room 437.

"Before we go in, I'd should warn you about his appearance. He has a tube down his throat to help him breath right now. His skin is very pale and his eyelids may flutter from time to time. Don't worry, though,everything is under control. So, shall we go in?"

The group of three nodded and entered the room. Spike's look, to say the least, was frightening. He was indeed a ghostly pale and as he lay unmoving in the stiff hospital bed, Spike appeared so small and fragile. Amidst the mattress and the blankets, the crew could see just how frail Spike was. No fat or muscle adorned his body and the paper hospital gown clung loosely to him.

"Don't be afraid of him. I'm sure he'd like to hear a familiar voice. He may be comatose but he can still hear you. If things go well, he should be awake by mid afternoon; evening at the latest."

"And if things _don't _go well?" Faye ventured to ask.

"Well, let's not deal with that unless we have to."

"Oh," Faye whispered in response.

"I suppose I'll leave you three to stay with him for a while. Though I'm sure you all want to be with him, I'm afraid that only one of you will be allowed to stay through the night and visiting hours are over in a half hour. Sorry for the inconvenience."

The doctor then disappeared back into the hospital. For several minutes, all that Jet, Faye, and Ed could do was stare at Spike. It had all come down to this. After everything they had gone through over the last few months, it was all lost on Spike and is attempted suicide. They all wondered how he'd feel once he realized he had failed. But as the soft beep of the heart monitor sounded in their ears, they all had to understand that he still hadn't fully survived yet.

* * *

"So who's gonna stay here?" Jet asked. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be the one to stay. If all three of them were there, then it wouldn't be so bad, but all night long, alone with a man who was knocking on heaven's door? That seemed like too much.

"I'll do it," Faye distantly offered.

"Are you sure, Faye?"

"…No. But…but if he doesn't make it…I, uh…I want to be here, I don't want to have to race from home and hope to get here in time."

Jet nodded at her rationalizing and placed a hand on her shoulder. The two adults watched as Ed slowly approached Spike's fading form. She stared at his face for the longest time, afraid to move any closer. She finally reached out a hand and touched Spike's cheek. It was cool to her fingertips and she quickly pulled her hand back to her body.

"Please wake up, Spike person," they heard the scared little girl say. "Ed forgives you for yelling at her when you did and Ed does not even care that there were no piyokos. Just do not leave Ed. Please. Everyone Ed loves leaves Ed and…and I don't want you to leave me."

Jet and Faye felt tears welling up in their eyes at Ed's words. No one knew the gravity of her situation. She was afraid to be left alone again. He father had done it and from the way she spoke, it sounded like someone else had left the girl, as well. Not only that, she had stopped talking in third person towards the end. They were seeing a different side of Ed, one brought out by tragedy of the utmost degree. Jet left Faye's side and went to the girl who had resumed her crying.

"Come on, Ed; let's go home for now," Jet softly said to her as he picked up her lithe body.

Jet peered down at Spike and was furious with him. How dare he do this to Ed and Faye and himself and the dog and, well…his _own_ self? Holding back tears for this man once again, Jet lightly touched Spike's shoulder, hoping the gesture would register in the sleeping man's mind somewhere. Abruptly turning, he headed out of the room.

"If anything changes, Faye," Jet said, turning to face her, "then call me immediately. I don't care if it's just a hiccup – let me know."

"I will, Jet."

"Okay. We'll be back in the morning. Nine on the dot. Take care of yourself."

"I will, Jet."

The man went over to Faye's slinking form and pulled her into an awkward, yet comforting hug. He kissed her forehead and then released.

"See ya in the morning."

* * *

And then there was one. Faye looked over at Spike and just stared for a while longer. She wasn't sure how to feel right now and she wasn't sure what to do. Eyeing a chair next to the right side of the bed, Faye hesitantly approached and sat down next to him. For a long time more, she stared at his pale, lifeless face. It had become the focal point of the night, so it seemed. Daring to touch him, Faye delicately grasped his cool hand in hers.

His fingers didn't move and she couldn't feel his radial pulse due to the surgical tape wrapped around his wrist. She brought said appendage up to her mouth and slowly kissed the precious skin.

"Why did you do this, Spike?" Faye asked in a controlled sob. "Why did it come to this? I just don't understand. So you see, you have to wake up so you can _make_ me understand. I…we need you Spike. Why can't you see that? We _love_ you. It's not that outrageous of a concept to believe.

"I swear, Spike; no one has ever caused me so much trouble. I sometimes wonder why I put up with you. And then you come around and flash me that sexy smirk of yours, and I remember why I simply can't let you go. Don't leave us, Spike. Please…just don't go.

"I…I can't be Julia, I wouldn't even know where to begin. But if you just woke up, if you just decided to live, then I'd be anything you want me to be. Hell, I'll even leave if that's what you want. I'll do anything for you, Spike. That's how deep into this shit I am. Heh…you're supposed to call my bluff now, lunkhead. It's not fun fighting with you when you can't fight back.

"I…I think I love you, Spike. It's a really inopportune time to tell you, but I'm not sure I'd ever get the nerve to tell you to your waking face. I'm not expecting anything from you, Spike; honest. Just please, as my final plea: wake up, cowboy. Please, just wake up."

Faye replaced Spike's hand to the bed and put her head down by his shoulder. She finally let her tears out in uncontrolled rivulets down her cheeks. She was terrified that at any moment, Spike's heart could give out and he would be gone. For the life of her, Faye just couldn't comprehend why this had all happened. None of it made any sense. As she drifted off into a fitful sleep, her last conscious thought was a simple one.

'I love you, Spike; please don't leave us."

* * *

**aww, so sad. so it seems as if spike is still alive, but will he make it through the night? and faye loves spike? how sweet. too bad he's not in a position to return those feelings. oh well. thanks for stopping by, then. until the next chapter!**

**-phoenix**


	17. Semitrucks and Elephants

16. Semi-trucks and Elephants

* * *

Spike Spiegel felt as if his head had recently been run over by a semi-truck that had been carrying 15 elephants. The rest of his body from the neck down felt as if it had been dipped in steaming hot water and left to dry. Nervously he took in a deep breath of air and quickly realized that something was in his throat. It was an odd sensation and one that he did not appreciate. He did his best to heave a sigh and tried to concentrate on figuring out what exactly was going on. Keep in mind, though, that he had truck full of elephants rolling over his brain at the moment.

As he gave up on thinking, he faintly heard voices to the left of him. The voices sounded familiar, but he just couldn't place them. He strained to listen but he, only picked up a few words like: "vitals", "feeding tube", "bedpan", and "apple juice". It made absolutely no sense to him, but he was under the impression that _nothing_ was going to makes sense in that instant.

He heard a feminine sigh and a deep, rumbling voice say "is he gonna be alright", and then everything suddenly rushed back to him. He had tried to kill himself. Suicide. He had committed suicide. Well, maybe not. This didn't seem like Hell and Spike was pretty certain that he was going straight to there, but he wasn't sure if they would serve apple juice. Unless, of course, it was part of some apple juice related torture. Spike shivered at the thought.

His emerging thoughts were interrupted by soft murmurs and the light tap of bare skin on linoleum. Straining once more, Spike tried to keenly listen to what was being said.

"You were supposed to get some rest, ya know?"

"I…I couldn't. I nodded off once and then I felt so guilty, I pinched myself every time I started to nod off again."

"When he wakes up, you can't very well take care of him if you're too exhausted."

"Are you saying that _I_ am going to be the one to take care of him?"

"Hey, you where the one who started in the first place."

"Unfair, Jet; very unfair."

The older man chuckled at the young woman and turned his gaze to his fallen comrade. To Jet, Spike looked exactly the same as he had last night. Faye, on the other hand, insisted that Spike's skin had more color to it today. Jet tried hard to see what she saw, but didn't. He was good at placating her, though, so he just nodded and smiled.

"So, can Spike person come home today?"

"I don't think so, Ed," Jet answered her truthfully. "He hasn't even woken up yet."

"All the better reason for Spike person to come home! Ed would rather sleep in her bed then some stiffly wiffly hospital bed any day!"

"Good point, Ed, but no dice," Faye answered, tussling the girl's hair.

Wait a minute…"Spike person"? "Ed"? "Jet"? "Dice"? Those words rang a clear bell in Spike's hazy mind and he finally realized who was in the room. But why in the hell would they come to see him? Didn't they see what he tried to do? Wait…tried? That's right; he now understood that he had failed as he inhaled a shaky breath. So then why where they here? Where they telling the doctor that they didn't want anything to do with him? That'd sure be a real kick in the pants. It was then that sobs once again broke his concentration.

"I…I'm just not sure he's gonna wake up, Jet," he heard Faye state.

"He's only been here a little over twelve hours.Give him a little while longer, Faye,"Jet reassured.

"I know, but the more time that goes by, the more antsy I get."

"He'll wake up, Faye. He had better wake his ass up," Jet threatened emptily.

As Jet looked at Faye, he realized that she wasn't going to stop her crying anytime soon. He knew that the woman wasn't nearly as strong as she thought she was. She was quite frail, actually, and once you got through that thick barrier, she was still as lost as the day she was thawed out. Pulling her into his arms once again, Jet gladly allowed Faye to let it all out.

"Is Faye Faye okay?"

"Yes Ed," Faye answered through sniffles. "I…I just don't like to see him like this, I guess."

"Ed does not like to see Spike person like this, either," Ed retorted as she wiggled in between Faye and Jet.

At that moment, Spike felt like the king of all jack-asses. He wasn't supposed to cause this much trouble for them. Just a quick, painless (yeah right), death while they were out an all they would have to do was dispose of his body. For all he cared, they could've tossed him in a dumpster, though he would have happily settled for an open grave.

As he continued to listen to Faye's sobs and Ed's random concerns over his health, Spike began to realize that maybe he was taking his attempted suicide too lightly. Maybe he wasn't making things simpler for them. In retrospect, he had to admit that leaving his body for their disposal _was_ a cruel thing to do. Deep down, he knew that these people didn't deserve that. They had really cared about him. Those thoughts had dawned on him in his final moments the night before.

Venturing to physically see the damage he had done, Spike cracked his fake eye open and looked to where the sounds were coming from. He gasped a little, or at least as much as the tube down his throat would allow, at what he saw. There, by the door of the darkened room, stood Jet, who was holding a slightly shaking Faye, and in between them was Ed with her arms around both of their waists.

'At least they found each other,' Spike mused at the sight.

He had heard someone once say that out of tragedy comes love. He had thought that person was an idiot. But seeing it laid out so plainly in front of him, Spike had to agree with that idiot. He smirked to himself as he doted on his good deed. He chose the wrong time to let his trademark smirk grace his face, though, for at that exact moment, Faye looked over at him, as if she could _feel_ him smirking.

"Why…why…why in the HELL ARE YOU SMIRKING!"

Faye's faltering voice quickly rose to a thundering crescendo as she broke free of Jet's grasp. Spike cringed and tried to apologize with his eyes. He had a good feeling what was coming next. He closed his eyes and braced himelf for a pillow to the face or a punch to the gut. What he got, though, he certainly didn't expect. Opening his eyes once more, Spike once again gaped at what he saw.

Instead of hitting him, Faye was hugging him. And she was crying. All because of him?

"Christ, Spike. You worried the living shit out of me," Faye whispered, afraid if she spoke too loud, she would find it all a dream.

"See Faye, I told you he'd get up soon. He can't sleep his _whole_ life away, after all," Jet said in a relieved tone as he put a hand on Spike's leg.

"Yay, Spike person is wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!"

Spike tried to say something to the band of misfits, but that damned tube simply wouldn't allow. Faye lifted her head and stared into Spike's mismatched, sleepy orb.

"You know, cowboy, I was just about to leave you here to rot. I can't keep worrying about you, ya know? It's not good for my health."

Spike smiled at her. It was a sleepy, sloppy smile; but a smile nonetheless.

"The woman's lyin', Spike. She was weeping over you like she had just lost at the races."

"He wasn't supposed to know that, _Jet_," Faye hissed playfully at the older man. "Well, I guess I wasn't going to leave you _just_ yet," she finally conceded.

At that moment, Dr. Nealon entered, seeing the page from this room at the nurses' station.

"I saw your page at the nurses' desk. Is something wrong?"

The doctor quickly took in the sight before him, no longer finding the threesome odd, and noticed his patient's eyes had finally popped open.

"Oh, so I see that you are awake, Mr. Spiegel. You had us all worried when you came in last night; you were in grave condition."

Spike gazed at the doctor as Faye removed herself from her awkward position across his midsection. Jet straightened and approached the doctor and Ed sat upside down in the chair by the bed.

"When did he wake?" Nealon questioned, looking Spike over.

"Um…about ten minutes ago," Jet offered.

"Good, good," the doctor responded as he shown a light directly into Spike's eyes.

"Have his movements been substantial?"

"He smirked," Faye answered. When the doctor threw her a confused look, she elaborated. "He always smirks when he thinks he's…well, he always smirks. If you ask me, that's substantial."

The doctor gave her a humorous, albeit, a perplexed chuckle and turned back to the man in the bed.

"Are you feeling well, Mr. Spiegel?"

Spike shook his head 'no'. How in the hell was he supposed to feel well after what he had gone through.

"I'm not surprised. But you are alive, and that's good. Your breathing has elevated and evened out and now that you're awake, I believe I can remove this tube. Would you like that?"

Spike now nodded his head 'yes'. Of course he wanted that fucking tube out; it was bugging the shit out of him,

"Very well then. On the count of three, I want you to exhale and I'm going to pull the tube out. I warn you that it will be uncomfortable. Are you ready?"

Spike once again nodded and tried to restrain how annoyed he was getting with this tool who called himself a doctor.

"Alright, then. One, two, three."

The doctor gave the tube a hard yank and as it finally exited Spike's esophagus, Spike heaved many a cough through his now unblocked passageway. He then found a cup of water in his face. He looked up and saw Faye lightly smiling at him. With a shaky hand, Spike accepted and took a big gulp.

"Thanks," he croaked out, surprised by the roughness of his voice and the slight swelling of his tongue.

"Of course, Mr. Spiegel. So, do you know why you are in the hospital?" Dr. Nealon asked, more to check Spike's cognizance than anything else.

"I tried to kill myself," Spike answered truthfully.

"Very well, then. And _why_ did you do this, Mr. Spiegel?"

"Well I don't believe that's any of your fuckin' business," Spike rasped, increasingly displeased with the doctor.

"Spike, watch it," Jet warned. "This guy saved your life."

"Yeah, well, it's not like I asked him to."

The doctor looked at Spike and tried to decipher him. He had dealt with his fair share of suicidal patients, and never once had he been able to understand how a person got to such an extreme state.

"It's okay, Mr. Black. I shouldn't pry into his private affairs. I believe that that is _your_ job," he said as he directed his gaze between Jet and Faye. "Well, he appears to be okay. I will send him to get a CAT scan later today and we can fully see the extent of the damage to his heart…"

"My heart? The fuck is wrong with my heart?"

"Well, Mr. Spiegel, it appears as if your continued drug use has affected some of the vessels lining you heart. We need to do a few more test to determine how badly they have been damaged," the doctor said matter-of-factly.

Dr. Nealon never enjoyed being so brisk with patients, but he learned long ago that when dealing with addicts, it was best to be aggressive, lest they not understand the gravity of the situation they were in.

"As I was saying; we will send him for a few more test, then once we have a proper diagnosis, we will be able to adequately treat his condition. That is, if he wants any treatment at all. While we can formulate any course of action that we choose, it is ultimately up to the patient to decide whether or not he wants to go through with it."

A suffocating silence fell upon the room then. It was a tough silence to be in. Jet and Faye had to realize that just because Spike was awake did by no means, mean that he was in the clear. Far from it. Faye secretly feared that Spike would only try this all again, and the next time, she was sure he wouldn't make it.

"His scan is scheduled for three p.m., so unless his condition changes, I will see you then. Good morning."

Dr. Nealon exited the room and headed off for a nap. He was halfway through a 30 hour shift and if he had to continue dealing with Mr. Spiegel, then he was going to need all the rest he could get.

The awkward silence still clung to the walls of the hospital room. Faye moved Ed from the chair and sat down in it. Suddenly weighted by the recent events, Jet took the other seat at the table by the window. Ed flopped down on the floor and stared at the ceiling, and Spike slowly sat up and stared at his hands.

"What were you thinking, Spike?" It was a simple question that Jet asked.

"I…I don't think I have an answer. Sorry, Jet," Spike answered in an honest tone.

At the time, suicide had seemed like a good idea, but as he thought back over it, it was probably the stupidest stunt that he had ever pulled.

"Well then, I guess there's nothing left to say," Jet concluded.

"Yeah, I guess so."

* * *

**our favorite cowboy is awake! and smirking again! when was the last time we saw that smirk in this fic? but as it was stated, just because he's awake does not mean he's in the clear. he still has a long way to go to get better, but will he take the steps necessary to do so? who knows. i'll give you all another chapter in a day or two, and hopefully we'll see spike thinking clearer. oh, and how am i doing? why not review and let me know? well, thanks for stopping by!**

**-phoenix**


	18. The Occasional Sip

17. The Occasional Sip

* * *

Nine hours later, the Bebop crew was situated in the small hospital room, eating a scant meal of instant noodles. Spike's test had been conducted and awkward small talk had been made. No questions had been asked and no answers had been given. The foursome sat in silence and continued to let the situation sink in.

"Hello all," Dr. Nealon said as he tiredly entered the room. "I have the results from Spike's tests."

They all looked at the doctor and nervously awaited the news.

"The damage isn't as bad as we feared. Four vessels in all have been injured, but it is minimal and shouldn't cause you too much stress in the future. We can give you a medicine to keep the vessels from deteriorating, but there is no way to repair what has been done, so don't injure them any further.

"As for the infection in your arm, we also caught that in time. I'm not sure if the needles you used where unsanitary or if you just threw caution to the wind, but if this had gone on for a month of two more, I am sure that we would have had to amputate. But since that isn't the case, we will put you on an antibiotic that will cure the infection and protect your health.

"We did, however, discover that your liver is in less than perfect condition. Are you a drinker, Mr. Spiegel?"

"I have the occasional sip," Spike lied.

"Mm. Well, it seems as if your 'occasional sip', mixed with the heroin, has significantly damaged your liver. You aren't in the territory for needing a transplant, but if you continue your current lifestyle, then you _will_ end up on that list."

Jet and Faye exchanged glances. The liver thing had really thrown them off. Spike wasn't as invincible as they all thought he was, and here was scientific proof.

"And in correlation to your, ahem, _addiction_, Mr. Spiegel, I am obligated to enroll you immediately into our drug detox program. With your severe overdose and you less the ideal health, I highly suggest that you attend this program and get yourself clean. It will benefit you greatly and I am sure your family will appreciate it, too.

"I have some brochures about our facility. I'll allow you some time to talk things over and make a decision. I'll check on you in a couple of hours to get you answer. If you agree to treatment, then we will move you to the center immediately. The narcotic antagonist we gave you will wear off soon and your withdrawal symptoms will kick in and we would like you secured before then. If you opt _not_ to seek help, then you will be discharged tomorrow morning, and may you go with the grace of God."

Dr. Nealon hurriedly left the room, as he tended to do. He didn't wish to stay around to witness Spike's reactions to his suggestions; it was bad enough that he had to deal with him at all. Spike proved to be a trying patient, indeed.

* * *

Back in the hospital room, Jet and Faye looked over the information that the doctor had left. Ed peeked over their shoulder momentarily before getting distracted by the soap dispenser in the small bathroom. A few tense minutes later, Jet spoke up.

"I'm not going to make you go, Spike. I highly suggest it, though. If you go: good, if you don't, then…then I'm not sure you can stay on the Bebop anymore."

"Jet!" Faye gasped.

"No, Faye. He has to decide what is more important: his health and us, or the heroin. We can't keep going through what he puts us through, and I personally don't ever want to find myself in the position I did last night. I don't want to deal with your violent mood swings and you overall lack of concern for yourself, Spike. You know I'll put up with a lot, but I can't put up with this anymore.

"We have tried so many times to help you but you've refused everything! You've hurt Ed, you've physically harmed Faye and you're draining me. I want to say I'd do anything for you, Spike, but I just can't do this anymore. And it won't help you either, if we continue to turn a blind eye and let you do this to yourself. So like I said, it's entirely up to you. Choose what is best for you."

Spike turned his head to Jet and Faye. He knew that Jet was serious this time, and he didn't blame him one bit. He had done so much to these people and yet they were still willing to try one last time for him. Heaving a sigh, Spike grappled with his decision. He hung has head and waited for someone to question him.

"So…what is it going to be, Spike?" Faye was the one to pose the question.

He looked straight into her eyes, ready to answer her.

"I…I'll go."

* * *

By ten o'clock that evening, Spike was on the sixth floor, sitting in the room that would be his personal hell for the next two months. He was pissed that he was going to have to go through this for 60 long, drawn out days, but as he heard Jet yelling at Ed to stop jumping on the bed, Spike knew he wasn't going to have to go through this alone.

"Attention guests. Visiting hours are now over. Please say your goodbyes and make your way to the exits. Thank you for your concern over your loved ones. Once again, visiting hours are from twelve o'clock noon to ten p.m. Thank you."

Jet grumbled at the automated voice, not sure if he was ready to leave Spike alone.

"So, are you gonna be okay tonight?" Jet asked.

"Yeah…I guess I'll be alright."

"Kay. Well, we gotta get going. We'll be back tomorrow afternoon."

"Okay," Spike wearily answered. He was surprised to see how tired he was, but when he remembered what he went through, he suddenly wasn't so surprised after all.

"Bye bye, Spike person. Ed will bring you a souvenir from Bebop Bebop tomorrow."

The young hacker flittered up to Spike and kissed him quickly on the cheek before sprinting out the door. Jet mumbled something about "being too old for this" as he ran after her.

"I'm glad you decided to do this," Faye said, breaking the silence. "I…I hope this works."

"Yeah, I guess I do, too."

"Well…uh…I'll see you tomorrow, then," she hesitantly said.

"Yeah…tomorrow."

Faye offered him a smile as she headed out of the room. Her heart constricted as she saw how lonely he looked. She would have stayed with him if she could, but that was against the rules. Waving at him one more time, she closed the door and went to find Jet and Ed. It wasn't hard, though; she had a trail of Ed related disasters to follow.

* * *

Spike decided not to explore his meager surroundings; he just got straight into bed. He was exhausted and upset and tired and so many other emotions. As the familiar gnaw of need tugged at Spike's sleepy brain, he secretly prayed that this would really work. He suddenly realized that he didn't want to be this way anymore; he didn't want to be addicted. He really did want to get better now.

Maybe his near death had something to do with it, or maybe it was they way that they looked at him, but Spike was struck with a determination to beat this. He realized that he was only 27, and he still had a lot to do in his life. He still needed to beat the house advantage at high stakes poker, conquer a small planet, eat at Joe's (the original on Earth), and make enough money to never have to hunt a bounty again. And he figured he'd throw a wife and kids in there, too. Yeah, toss 'em in right behind "kick the heroin habit", or somewhere around there.

* * *

**so the lunkhead has finally come to his senses, so it seems. aren't we all glad for that? oh, and if you can't feel it yet, then let me tell you that there will be bits and pieces of sxf fluff in the near future. just to let you know. oh, and since it seems as if many of you are reading this little fic of mine, why not leave me a review? you know, to let me know i'm not a total failure and all. anyways, thanks for stopping by...**

**-phoenix**


	19. Wasted Sarcasm

**so are dear spike is now in rehab, remember? let's hope this all goes well...**

18. Wasted Sarcasm

* * *

"Good morning, may I speak with Mr. Jet Black?"

"Speaking," Jet groaned as he answered the ringing phone. He glanced at his watch on the night stand and cringed when he saw that it was only 8:02 in the morning. It had been a long, exhausting two days since Spike was first rushed to the emergency room, and all Jet wanted to do was sleep.

"Hello, sir. My name is Linda; I'm from the detox center here in Tharsis General Hospital. I'm sorry to wake you, but I'm calling in regards to our patient, Spike Spiegel."

"What's wrong with him?" Jet sat up immediately, no longer tired.

"It's nothing to be alarmed about, but I'm afraid you won't be able to visit him for the next couple of days."

"Why?"

"The antagonist that the Dr. Nealon administered has left his system and now Mr. Spiegel is currently going through withdrawal from the heroin."

"But that doesn't explain why we can't see him."

"Actually, it does. For the next 24 to 48 hours, Mr. Spiegel will be very stressed out due to the withdrawal. He will be sick and anxious, nervous and easily enraged. For his safety, as well as yours, I have to ask you to not visit. I or someone will give you a call when the worst of his symptoms have gone away. Do you have any questions, Mr. Black?"

"Uh…I guess not. Is he…is he gonna be okay, though?"

"He will be fine, Mr. Black. Our staff is more than capable of dealing with a patient and their withdrawal. He will be better soon, and when you come in, we will detail his treatment with you."

"Okay. Thanks, then. If you can, tell him to get better, fast."

"Will do. Thank you for you time, Mr. Black. Good bye."

"Yeah, see ya."

Jet hung up the phone and rubbed a hand over his face. He sighed to his self as he rose from the bed. He had better tell Faye about all of this sooner, rather than later. He made his way to Faye's room and headed on in. Normally, Jet would have knocked and let her have her privacy, but he was too tired to care this morning. When he saw her curled up in her bed, blankets on the floor and sheets wrapped around her body, Jet almost didn't have the heart to wake her. Almost, that is.

"Faye, wake up," Jet groused as he put his cold, metal hand on her exposed ankle.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Faye yelled as she jolted awake at the sudden coldness. "Oh…it's you. What do you want? It's too early to bother me."

"Quite your whining, Faye; you know that doesn't work on me."

"Are you sure?" Faye asked, batting her sleepy eyes at him.

"Can it, Faye. I just came in to tell you that we can't see Spike for a few days."

"Why?" she nearly shouted, truly awake now.

"Someone just called from the detox center and said that he's going through withdrawal and we can't see him until he gets over it."

"What? Well that's a stupid reason to keep us away."

Jet just shrugged his shoulders. With his message delivered, he turned and began to head out of the door. If he was lucky, he'd be able to fall right back to sleep. Rest would surely do him good, he thought wearily.

"When can we see him again?" Faye's voice drifted to Jet's form at the door.

"She said she'd call."

"That's it?"

"Yep, that's it. Go back to sleep, Faye; I'll see ya later."

Faye nodded and watched the door close. She sat up for a few seconds more and thought about Spike. If they wouldn't let them see him, then withdrawal must have really been awful. Faye shuddered as she thought about what he could be going through. Laying back down, Faye sighed and once again thought over how exactly she had gotten herself in such a crazy mess. Her ponderings were cut short though, as she quickly drifted into sleep.

* * *

Over at Tharsis City General Hospital, somewhere in the detox ward, a young man screamed with shaking fury. He was strapped in a straight jacket and was rushing around a padded room. His behavior was extreme, to say the least; but the detox staff had actually seen worse.

Spike Spiegel was in hour 11 of what could be a 48 hour ordeal. At roughly four a.m., Spike woke up in his bed, sweating bullets and gasping for breath. He looked around at his surroundings and realized that he wasn't in his room on the Bebop. Deciding to have a look anyway, Spike sprung from his bed and began to ransack the room, desperately hoping to find the object of his need.

A nurse walking by had heard his shouts of anguish and alerted the front desk of his current state. Soon, Spike was being advanced upon by an armed guard and a doctor in a white coat, though it wasn't Dr. Nealon, Spike's fuzzy brain registered. He fought off the guard as best he could, but was eventually restrained. The doctor took out a syringe and for a moment, Spike was sure that the doctor would relieve his suffering and give him a hit.

Instead, the doctor uncapped the needle and stuck it into Spike's neck. The frustrated man hurled some choice words at the doctor before becoming very woozy.

"What the fuck did you stick me with!"

"Just a simple solution to calm you down, Mr. Spiegel."

"All I need to calm down is a hit, you bastard!"

Spike was then outfitted in the straight jacked and placed in a padded room as the doctor said, "It's for your own protection." Spike bounced around the walls for a while, praying to break out and find his precious drug. When he realized the walls wouldn't budge, he sat down in a corner and cried. It felt as if his insides where on fire and his skin was crawling. He had the sensation of spiders in his hair and imagined rats chewing behind his eyes. Had he been unrestrained, he very likely would have blinded his self.

He eventually lurched to the side and expelled air and stomach acid onto the soft floor below. His body rocked with violent shakes and all Spike could do was wish for a quick death. Somehow he managed to close his eyes and fall into a fitful, agonizing sleep.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Mr. Spiegel. I'm not sure if you remember me, but I'm Dr. Arkin. I was the one who administered the medication that calmed you the other day. I'm glad to see that you are subdued now."

"Fuck off," Spike rasped. He eyed the doctor as he wrote something down on a clipboard. "The fuck are you writing?"

"I'm documenting your behavior. I tailor specific aspects of treatment for all of my patients, and this is how I determine what course of action to take."

Spike scoffed as the guard from before entered. He helped Spike to his feet and began to untie him. Once Spike was free of the restrictive garment, he stretched his arms as far as he could and was satisfied at the cracks his joints made.

"Good. I see that you are no longer violent. Other than you irritability, I believe that the worse of your withdrawal is over."

"Right," Spike harped.

"Or perhaps your irritability is just a normal part of you attitude," Dr. Arkin said to himself. "Well follow me, Spike, and I'll lead you back to you room. You wrecked it quite a bit, and that will be the first thing you fix."

"What?" Spike almost shouted at him.

"You heard what I said, Spike," the doctor responded as he faced the bewildered man. "You must understand that every action has its consequence. _Your_ actions have consequences. Addicts typically do not believe that what they do has any effect on anything, but they actually do. So, you destroyed your room, and you will clean your room. If you want your visiting privileges, than I suggest you do as I ask."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you will receive no visitors, you meals will be scant, and you treatments will be more intense. I'm not doing this to you to be a jerk, Spike; I just need you to understand that you _must_ take responsibility for your actions. By completing this task, you demonstrate to me that you truly wish to beat this. And the less you complain, the more I am apt to being lenient with you."

"You can tell _all_ that just because I cleaned my room?" Spike asked, sarcasm dripping off of his tongue.

"Yes, Mr. Spiegel, _all _of that. And your sarcasm will only be wasted on myself and the rest of the staff; your words are nothing that we haven't heard before."

Spike looked at the man and suddenly hated him so very much. The doctor was a prick, and Spike didn't take to that too well. He was ushered into his demolished room and when he heard the door lock behind him, Spike sighed as he resigned himself to the task at hand. Picking up an over turned chair, Spike began that long process of restoring his room.

Dr. Arkin watched him through the camera in Spike's room and was quite pleased, if not a little shocked, by how quickly Spike went to cleaning.

"It appears as if the patient truly wishes to beat this. It has been my experience that when patients have been faced with near death and are part of a loving family, they are more likely to overcome their addiction than anyone else I treat. I hope he continues to prove my theory correct."

* * *

Four days after Spike's first step to recovery, he found himself in his room with Faye, Jet, Ed and the doctor. It was his first visit since he had been there. The doctor told him that he had "earned" it after his positive efforts. Spike had simply sighed and rolled his eyes. But he would be lying, though, if he said he wasn't glad to see those familiar faces. He was a little uneasy with himself due to just how much he had missed them, but he chalked it up to withdrawal and just watched them with a smile.

Jet, Faye and Ed had finally received a call, five days after Spike's initial commitment, that they could come and see him. Jet had been relieved, Faye was angry at the staff for taking so long, and Ed did cartwheels around the couch. When they had arrived, Ed was the first one in and didn't waste any time firmly attaching herself to Spike's leg. Spike chuckled and ruffled the girl's hair. He smiled earnestly at her and felt relieved that she was still able to be cheery around him. And she had indeed brought him a souvenir. It was a drawing of the Bebop and stick figures of him, Jet, Faye, Ein and herself. Not the most advanced form of art, but a sweet gesture nonetheless.

Jet had patted him on the back and asked how he was feeling. Typical Jet; never one to dig too deep, but always able to show he cared. Faye had been the last to greet him. She started at him for a while, and then she told him to not screw up again because she could easily get used to not visiting, and then she hugged him. It was her way of saying, "hang in there, cowboy".

* * *

A few minutes later, Dr. Arkin came in and introduced himself. He then sat them all down and explained the treatment he had structured for Spike.

"I am glad you all came down today," Dr. Arkin said. "A strong group to depend on is a definite staple in overcoming addiction. So, after observing Spike and his behavior for the last few days, I have come up with a suitable plan of action. First off, I must say that when I first encountered his, shall I say, 'testiness', I thought it was in reaction to the drug. But the more I observe him, the more I come to believe that this is just his typical nature."

"You've got that right, doc," Faye easily answered. "I like to think of it as 'eternal PMS'. Too bad he's not a girl."

"Ha, ha Faye…hilarious," Spike dryly responded.

"I see," Dr. Arkin said, silently looking on at the banter between the two. "As I said, I have found an appropriate course of action. He will attend behavioral therapy four times a week. Two days will be in a group setting and the other two days will be with just me and an assistant.

"I plan to administer a cognitive-behavioral technique that is used to modify a patient's thinking, expectancies, and behaviors. I will also hope to instill in him skills to cope with various stresses in life, all in an effort to teach him that heroin is not the answer.

"And to help curb his cravings for the time being, I am prescribing him a medication called Methadone. This is drug that suppresses the cravings associated with heroin. The effects last 24 hours, much longer than a heroin high, and can be used for many years with few to no side effects. By supplementing his therapy with Methadone, I hope for a faster recovery that will not lead to any type of relapse in the future. Okay, then? Do any of you have questions for me?"

"Yeah, I do, doc," Spike stated. "You're really gonna throw me in a room four days a week to get therapy?"

"Yes, I sure am. Each session will run about two hours, unless I feel like you need a little more time."

"Great."

"Like I said, Mr. Spiegel: your sarcasm is wasted on me."

"Tell him as much as you like, but nothing gets through that lunkhead of his," Faye jabbed.

"Alright then," Arkin responded with a curious chuckle. "Do you have anything you want to add? Any suggestions or things to remove?"

"Well…" Faye began. "I had him start a journal a few months ago. I though that maybe I could find a way to help him if he wrote about things. Guess I was wrong. But, I dunno, I guess it would be nice if you would make him write, at least a couple of times a week."

"Faye…" Spike groaned.

"A journal, hmm? That's a great idea, actually. It can be very therapeutic to express one's feelings in such a manner. I'll add that to the list."

"Thanks, Faye," Spike said, sarcastic tone still in place.

"Anytime, Gorgio."

The beboppers and the doctor talked several minutes more about Spike and his treatments, et cetera. Soon, the doctor left, and the foursome was left to their antics. Basically, they did what they would do on a normal day at the Bebop. Jet did something to calm his nerves, but since there where no bonsais, he just toyed with the window blinds. Spike and Faye bickered over the whole journal business and Ed drew pictures on the desk in Spike's room. All in all, an odd scene for anyone watching, but it was just they way things should have been, if you had asked any of those four.

* * *

**seems like things may be easing back intothe normal. i'm sure we're all ready for that, huh? oh, and if you were wondering, now you know that i'm bring back in the diary. it's a big part of this fic, and of course it'd come back. so then, thanks for stopping by and until next time!**

**-phoenix**


	20. Just Put it in Your Mouth

19. Just Put it in Your Mouth

_

* * *

_

_June 25, 2072_

_So I've been in detox for almost a month now. It's been okay, I guess. Group therapy's a bitch. It's just so weird to be in a room with people well…people just like me. When I was doing the stuff, for some reason I thought I was the only one that did this shit. That's was pretty stupid, though. But seeing all these other people so strung out…it's mind numbing. I wonder if I look like them, all zoned out and shit. I'm sure I do. Last time I thought I was the only one, well, we saw the error in my thinking._

_The private sessions aren't so bad, I guess. It's better since I don't have other people in there with me, besides the doc, that is. He usually gives me theseweird tests that deal with anger and heroin and other kinds of drugs. Then he gives me advice on how to calm my anger, or leave drugs behind. It's really hard, I ain't gonna lie, but I think it's working. Well, I hope it is._

_And this medicine, methadone or something, is pretty crazy. It really does repress cravings and it kinda balances me out, but at the same time, it's like I'm not on anything at all. I guess that's what it's supposed to do, though. _

_Well, tomorrow is my birthday. Twenty-eight, I believe. Don't know why I'm thinking about it, though. I'm sure they don't remember, and even if they did, they can't come tomorrow. Their goin' on a hunt. All three of 'em. I'm kinda jealous cause I'm not there, but what can I do? It doesn't really matter, though. It's just another day, after all. No use in celebrating so soon._

* * *

Spike was taking his afternoon nap, sprawled on his stomach and breathing deeply. He was having a decent dream about a pretty woman and a bikini one size too small. He wasn't sure who the woman was, but at the moment, it didn't really matter. It was his most peaceful sleep as of late, and he was enjoying it to the fullest. His enjoyment was cut premature, though, when he felt a weight on his back.

"Happy, happy birthday, Spike person! Ed has presents!"

"Yeah, get your lazy ass up and blow out your candles," Jet called to him.

Spike turned over after Ed removed herself, and looked at them. He rubbed his eyes, actually not believing what he saw, and sat up.

"I thought you guys were catching a bounty," Spike said groggily.

"If we had of told you the truth, then this wouldn't be a surprise, now would it be?" Faye coyly asked as she put balloons on the table.

"Ed brought Spike person piyokos!"

"Gee, thanks Ed," Spike said as he took the box of odd shaped food. It was weird for him to accept the thing that drove him and Ed apart, but what better to bring them back together with?

"Yeah, and I _was_ gonna get you a gift, but I decided to fix your ship, instead," Jet said as he sat at the table and pulled out his lighter.

"Thanks, Jet; what would I do without your handiwork?" Spike sarcastically asked as he pulled his shirt on.

"I made you a cake, so that's my gift," Faye said, motioning to her masterpiece.

"If you wanted me dead, Faye, all you had to do was ask. No need to kill me with food."

"It's good!" She insisted. "When you take a bite, you'll regret your hasty words."

"Whatever."

"Well, let's get this over with," Jet said as he finished lighting the candles.

Spike watched the threesome as they began to sing. He covered his ears and complained about their noise, but he was beyond grateful for these guys. They sure knew how to make a guy feel wanted. After they finished singing, Spike took a deep breath, made a wish, and blew out the candles. They lazily clapped and Faye began to slice the cake.

"What did Spike person wish upon a star for?" Ed asked.

"If I told you, then it wouldn't come true. But I did wish for something good," Spike said, smiling at the girl.

Pleased with his response, Ed took her cake, flopped onto the floor, and began to eat with her hands. Jet appreciatively took his piece and Spike eyed his cautiously.

"Just put it in your mouth, lunkhead."

"Faye! There are children in the room," Spike joked.

"Ugh, you idiot! Just eat the damn cake!"

Spike laughed at her outburst, it was so classically Faye. He had missed that side of her. Hell, he had missed all of them. Raising a forkful to his face, Spike took a bite, chewed, then swallowed.

"Hey, this isn't half bad, Faye. If you can cook this good, then why do we eat Jet's chicken shit?"

"Hey! I cook that with love," Jet complained.

"Too bad love isn't a good cooking spice."

Jet glared at Spike for his comment, but couldn't help but smile when he saw Spike and Faye laughing together.

_

* * *

June 26, 2072_

_So we surprised Spike for his birthday today. He really thought we had forgotten. What kind of friends does he take us for? He liked my cake. I don't know why, but that makes me really happy. _He_ makes me really happy. He's been in detox for almost a month now, and he is looking better already. His eyes are back to normal now. No haze or anything like that. And he's putting on weight. He was so skinny, it hurt, but now he's putting some pounds back on his anorexic frame. And his smirk is back. I…I hadn't seen it for a while and I was starting to miss it. I know he still has over a month to go, but I think he might…make it? I'm so afraid to say that; I just don't want to jinx all of this. But today felt so good, so right, like we were back on the Bebop before all of this shit happened, and let me say that it was heaven. I want to get back to that, or at least as close as we can get. I just hope this all works. After all that we have been through, it had damn well better work._

_

* * *

July 1, 2072_

_We visited Spike again today. He wasn't doing so good. The doctor said he was having a reaction to lingering heroin in his system, but that he'd be okay. We where only able to see him for a half hour. But still, I believe his doing better overall. He really does look better. He looks…healthier, I guess. I know Faye thinks he looks better because every time we leave, she comments on something else about him. If you ask me, I'd say she's got a thing for the lunkhead. Wouldn't be the first time I thought this, though. I'm sure all their bickering in the past was nothing but sexual tension. What they do with each other, though, is their own business. Just as long as they don't let the girl see, it'll be okay. I've never given the "talk" and I don't want to start now. _

_

* * *

July 8, 2072_

_Spike person has been locked up for more than a month. That's a long time, but Jet person says he still has more time. Ed wants him to come home, but if he needs to stay to get better, then Ed can wait. Spike person does not yell at Ed…me anymore. He is nice again. And he and Faye Faye argue again. And Jet person gets angry at them again. It reminds me of how things were before Spike got sick. I am not sure what is wrong with Spike, though; no one has ever told me. The doctor said something about heroin and I looked it up. I found that heroin is a drug that does bad, bad things to a person. I am not sure why Spike person used this stuff if it was bad. But he is trying to get better, now, so I am happy. He will be okay. Spike person is always okay in the end._

* * *

"What are you doing here, Faye?" Spike asked as Faye eased into his room.

"Can't a friend just stop by to see another friend?"

"I guess so, but since when did you have friends?" Spike smirked as he sat up on his bed.

"A real riot, Spike. I was just in the neighborhood, and decided to stop by."

"Jet and Ed here?"

"Nope, just me tonight."

"Mm."

"So how's it going?" Faye asked as she sat in the chair across from his bed.

"Eh, it's going. You?"

"It's going."

The pair sat in an awkward silence for several minutes. Faye started to wonder why she had even stopped by. Spike was wondering, too.

"So, why are you really here," Spike asked, finally breaking the silence.

"I…I guess I don't know, really. I just figured it got lonely here, and I dropped in."

"Really? I guess it does get empty. It's not like there's any one to really talk to."

"Yeah…"

"Yeah…"

"Uh, we caught a bounty yesterday. Three million woolongs," Faye fumbled with the words, trying to think of anything to say.

"Mm…"

Again, silence fell over the room. Faye took in the familiar sight and Spike took in her familiar form. They made awkward eye contact and then quickly looked away from each other. This situation wasn't getting any easier, so Faye stood to leave.

"Well, I guess I'll head out now, cowboy. No use wasting space, huh?"

"Wait, Faye," Spike called out, halting her exit. "Stay…for a while."

"Why?"

"Why not? You said you were in the neighborhood, after all. I doubt you have anything to do, so you might as well not waste the elevator ride up."

"And how do _you_ know if I have things to do or not?"

"If you're not going to waste money at the races, then you've got nowhere to go. It's 8:30 and the tracks are closed, so…"

"Well, I could have a date," Faye replied defensively.

"You're too much of a bitch, Faye. Only a crazy man would date you."

"You know, Spike, you can be a real ass sometimes," Faye smiled as she closed the door.

"I know," Spike smirked as he watched her sit down again.

* * *

**i made myself smile with this chapter. definitely the happiest we've seen so far. looks like spike is getting back to normal, eh? let's hope so, cause that'd be nice. oh, and many a journal entry this time around. are you glad i brought that back? why not review and let me know? well then, thanks for stopping by. until next time.**

**-phoenix**


	21. Truth in Mistake A Lot Like Ed

20. Truth in Mistake (A Lot Like Ed)

_

* * *

_

_July 20, 2072_

_So Faye's been coming around a lot lately without Jet and the kid. At first, things were really awkward, but now, I dunno…it's kinda…nice. She can be a real pain in the ass most of the time, but sometimes she can be…fun. She has a way of making me smile. I have no fucking idea how she does it, but she does. I wanna hate her for it, but I can't. After everything I've done to her, to hate her would be too much. When she left tonight, she kissed me on the cheek. It's stupid that I'm even bringing it up, but I guess I kinda liked it. I'm not sure how Faye does it, but she gives me butterflies. Christ, that's so fucking stupid. But it's true. I don't _like_ her, though. Only a crazy man would even consider getting involved with that crazy bitch. But then again, I haven't been acting too sane, lately…_

* * *

It was late July. July 30, to be exact. Spike Spiegel was set to "graduate" from Tharsis City General Hospital Drug Detoxification Center on August 2, and the Bebop crew was busy tidying up for his return. It's not as if he would notice or anything, but it just seemed like the thing to do. 

Since Spike enrolled in rehab, things on the Bebop, and in the personal lives of the ship's gang, had begun to even out and return to how things were before drugs and addiction where a part of the equation. Jet had finally resumed clipping his bonsai trees and when he had first re-entered the room, he thought he was walking into a forest. After a weed whacker, some water, and a lot of TLC, Jet's precious bonsais where soon back in tip top shape.

Ed had resumed her outrageous behavior, as well. She challenged unseen competitors to online chess, zoomed through the metallic hallways, and her ridiculous songs could be heard day and night. Ein had also perked up. He barked more and resumed his habit of destroying Spike's property when he got the chance.

And Faye had return to the tracks. Jet threatened her with an intervention of her own, but she had simply laughed at him and bet it all on a horse named "Lunkhead's Royal Green Puff". Her horse had won that day.

And she had started to use up all the hot water in the shower again. Many a morning, Jet found himself showering in ice cubes practically. Yes, things were indeed returning back to "normal", Bebop style. Now, all that was needed was Spike.

* * *

"I'm heading out for a little while, Jet," Faye called from the hanger. After cleaning up an incredibly dusty Bebop all day, Faye relaxed with a hot bath and then readied herself to head out. 

"Where are you going, Faye?" Jet yelled from the kitchen, where he was making bell peppers with actual beef.

"Oh, just out," was Faye's quick response.

As Jet listened to the hangar open and the Red Tail fly away, he couldn't help but chuckle to his self. He had a good inkling as to where she was headed. If he was as knowledgeable as he liked to think he was, then he knew where her little trips always ended up. Setting a smile on his face, Jet shouted for Ed to come and eat.

* * *

"Knock, knock," Faye called out as she pushed the door open to Spike's room. 

"Hey," Spike called from his closet. He had just gotten out of the shower and was searching for a shirt to put on. Glancing at Faye and noticing her faint blush, Spike smiled and contemplated just staying in his sweat pants only. Thinking better of the idea, though,he pulled a shirt over his head and turned back to the woman.

"So, to what pleasure do I owe this visit to tonight?" Spike casually asked.

"Oh, I just thought that you would enjoy being graced by the prescence of such a beautiful woman," Faye answered, never losing step with him.

"Really? Well, where is she?"

"Ugh, screw you."

"Is that an offer?" Spike's normally silky, deep tone had returned, and just in time to properly catch Faye off-guard.

Faye gasped at his comment and the familiar blush returned to her cheeks. She swiftly looked away from him and busied herself with rearranging the items on Spike's desk.

"So, what really brings you by?" Spike asked, proud at the reaction he evoked in Faye.

"Well, you're getting out of here in a couple of days, "graduating" as they say. I guess I just wanted to remember the room."

"That's a pretty bad lie, Faye."

"Yeah, well…"

Spike and Faye stood on opposite sides of the room, she in awkward silence, and he in curious reverie. This wasn't the first time Faye had visited alone. It had actually become a bi-weekly occurrence. But for some reason, tonight, Faye was shifty and unnerved for some reason. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see the difference in her behavior, and perhaps that's why Spike caught it, too.

"What's up, Faye? Looks to me like somethin's on your mind," he voiced as he sat on his bed.

"Nothing, Spike; nothing at all," she said as she took a seat in the chair.

"With an answer like that, you're practically_ begging_ me to figure out what's wrong with you. Well, other that the usual, that is."

"You're an ass, you know that?"

"Obviously I do, but that still doesn't answer my question," he said, leveling his cool gaze with hers.

Faye felt somewhat uncomfortable in his line of sight. Over the weeks, she had seen him return to his normal self and she found herself enjoying looking into his eyes more and more. But tonight it seemed as if he was discovering her deepest kept secrets with those eyes.

"Well, then; I see that I'm going to have to force a confession out of you," Spike said as he rose from his bed.

"Spike, what are you doing?" Faye questioned in a warning tone.

Without answering her, Spike walked up to Faye, pulled her from the chair, tossed her on the bed, and began to…tickle her? Faye was forced to burst out into hysterical laughter as Spike's long fingers assaulted her midsection. It was definitely nothing that she had expected; she never took Spike for a tickler, but at the moment, she was just glad to have him touching her.

Spike, too, was shocked by his actions. He never liked to be tickled, or liked to dish it out, but for some damn reason, Faye made him so playful. He really wanted to credit his behavior to his medication, but as he laughed at her laughter, he knew that the medicine had nothing to do with this.

After several minutes of hilarious torture, Faye finally cried "uncle" and pleaded for him to stop. Giving in to her pathetic pleas, Spike brought his attack to a halt, though he didn't remove his body from over hers. He gazed at her as she tried to calm herself, and suddenly realized that she was actually quite beautiful. And with that thought, Spike quickly moved off of her and scooted to the edge of the bed.

He shook his head and became pensive as he wondered where in the hell that thought had come from. Well, yeah, Faye was a good looking woman; everybody knew that. But for _him_ to actually _think_ it was a whole different thing. To his shock and slight dismay, Spike began to understand that she was starting to unravel parts of him that he thought he had wound up a long time ago.

"Since it has been revealed to me that you are an offensive tickler, I guess I'll tell you what's up. If you really want to know, that is," Faye said, breaking the stillness that had settled over them. 

"Huh?" Spike said, breaking from his contemplation. "Oh, yeah…I didn't go to such drastic lengths for nothing," he recovered, smirking mildly at her.

"So, you really want to know?" Faye inquired; not sure if she believed his concern.

"Christ, Faye; yes! What do I have to do? Write it on a fucking blimp?"

"Temper, temper; Spike," Faye cooed.

"Temper, my ass," he muttered in return.

"Well…I, uh…honestly?"

Spike glared at her as he cracked his fingers, threatening another round of tickles.

"Right. I...uh…I guess I'm scared. There, I said it."

"Scared of what, Faye?"

Faye wasn't sure if she liked the way he said her name like that. Actually, she wasn't sure if she liked the way he said her name at all. He usually referred to her as "shrew", "romani", "bitch", "slut", "whore", et cetera; but he hardly ever used her name. Tonight, however, like so many other things, he had said it at least four times so far. And every time she heard it roll off his tongue, a shiver ran down her spine.

"I'm…scared of…_for_ you."

"What? Why are you scared for _me_?" Spike asked, truly interested.

"I…I just," Faye was stuttering and she knew it. She wasn't sure why she was so afraid to talk to him; she had never been before. "I'm just afraid that when you get out, you'll only go right back to the drug and all of this will happen again, except the next time, you probably won't live and if you die, I'm not sure how I would deal with that!"

Spike looked at Faye as she shouted at him in a hurried pace. He couldn't help but feel a pang of grief at her truthful statement. She was afraid that he would turn back to the thing that got him in this shape in the first place. He sighed and turned away from her when he realized that her fears were fully justified. Just because he was in rehab, did _not_ mean he was cured. He looked back over at her and only felt worse when he saw tears falling from her jade orbs.

"Faye, I…" And he was at a loss for words. How was he supposed to respond to that? He still wanted to live in a world where no one cared for him, but after the events of the last few months, he had to shatter that perception, and fast.

He reached over to her with a slightly shaky hand and wiped her tears away with his thumb. At his actions, her eyes flashed towards his. She was dumbstruck by his sudden kindness.

"I guess you have a right to, uh, feel that way," he finally found the words to say to her. "I'm scared for me, too, I guess. I really don't want to go back to how I was. When I think about it, I was pretty fucked up."

"Yeah…" Faye exhaled, suddenly finding the courage to speak more freely. "It's just that, I dunno; I just don't want to lose you. Christ, now I sound like Ed. But…but it's true. I know I always act like I don't care about you or anyone else on the ship, but that's just not true. I really _do_ care, and I guess that's what scares me the most.

"I know you know the story about me and Whitney. As I recall, you where in the bathroom the whole time I told the story to Ein. But after I thought he died, I just gave up on people. I had lost everything I knew after the accident and waking up, only to have the man I trusted die…it was all too much. I just shut down, after that, you know. I refused to get close to people again because I didn't want to get hurt again.

"But I got caught up on the Bebop and well, fuck me; I started to like you guys. Before I knew it, you were my family and even though I tried hard not to, I began to trust you guys. When you started doing drugs and got really messed up, it was like Whitney all over again, except this time, I was watching him die right in front of me.

"A lot like Ed, I don't have anyone to rely on except the three of you, and I guess I've gotten pretty protective lately. If…if you died, I don't think I could take it. You already almost got yourself killed _twice _on my watch; I definitely don't need you to go down that road again."

Faye refused to look at him. She all too readily spilled her guts to this man. Fiddling with her slender, fumbling fingers, Faye waited for Spike to respond.

"I…I had know clue you felt like that, Faye. But why tell me all of this? You were never one to open up about yourself," Spike asked, genuinely surprised by what she was saying.

"I know…it's just that…after all of this…I have to face the reality that no one is guaranteed tomorrow, although you've cheated the Reaper an awful lot. I guess I just want you to know _now_, in case tomorrow's too late."

For the umpteenth time that night, a silence fell over the small room. It wasn't so awkward this time around, but filled with more feeling, instead. Spike mulled over her words and actually found a bit of happiness in the fact that Faye cared about him. Well, it made him more than a _bit_ happy, but he wasn't quite ready to figure out _those_ feelings yet.

"I…I don't know how to really say this, but…I care about you, Spike. And I…I like you."

"What! _The_ Faye Valentine actually _likes_ me? Well blesséd be the day that such a revelation was told unto me!" Spike mercilessly taunted. Faye punched him in his good arm, thankful for something to lighten the mood.

"Really, Spike," she said convincingly. "I really do like you, as impossible as that may sound. I know you're an arrogant, narcissistic, lunkheaded, idiotic…"

"Get to the point, Faye."

"…son of a bitch," she smirked at him, "but despite all of that, you've grown on me like, kind of like a tumor that in the end, turns out to save your life, rather than ruin it."

"Not the most flattering allusion, but I'll take it," Spike smiled at her.

Faye smiled back and sighed in contentment. So she may have not told him the _exact _truth, but she had told him enough. And after her initial confessions, she was sure he couldn't take the real dinger: I love you. Now Faye wasn't apt to throwing that word around; matter of fact, she wasn't sure she had said it since she woke from cryo. Save for her impromptu bedside confession a couple of months ago. But after everything they had gone through with Spike and his addiction, looking at his healthy form only reconfirmed the fact that she did, indeed, love the jerk.

"Well," she said, rising steadily, "I'm glad we could have this talk, but I've gotta go. Jet was cooking bell peppers with real beef this time, and I wouldn't mind a bite of that, I guess. So, I'll leave you alone to your thoughts, then, cowboy."

"Faye, wait a minute," Spike called to her, walking towards the door as well.

"What do you want? Haven't you taken up enough of my time already?" She playfully mocked.

Faye didn't receive an answer, though. To her greatest surprise, she found Spike's lips tenderly upon hers. It was a chaste kiss, but a truly powerful one, to say the least. With such a simple gesture, Spike conveyed so much to her; things he wasn't sure he could say to her yet. He was typically a man of action, and he was certainly proving that at the moment. When the kiss finally broke, they pulled apart slightly, but not fully.

"What…what was that about?" Faye whispered, not sure she trusted her voice.

"Do you always need an explanation for things?"

As that wonderful blush returned to Faye's soft cheeks, Spike placed a sweet kiss on her forehead.

"I don't pretend to know what you're thinking, Faye, and I don't want to put words in your mouth or anything like that, but I want you to know that I'm gonna try. I mean _really_ try to totally get over this. And I'm gonna try and be a better person…a better man. Mostly for me…but a little for you, too. I don't promise to be perfect, I could never lie to you like that; but I'll do my damndest to try and be good for you."

"What…what do you mean, Spike?" Faye breathlessly questioned, unsure of what had brought this admission out of the man in front of her.

"I either mean nothing at all, Faye; or I mean everything."

"Do you have to talk in riddles?"

"Until I get this all figured out…yes, I do," he smiled genuinely at her. "Well, I guess I better let you get back, I'd hate to deprive you of Jet's cooking any longer."

And with that, he backed away from her and watched her with an amused gaze. She nodded to him and exited the room, a nervous spring in her step. Spike closed the door after her and collapsed onto his bed. He wasn't sure why he had told Faye that. Well, he _was_, but he wasn't sure why he told her so soon. Perhaps it was her honesty that brought that out of him. Or maybe it really _was_ the meds. Either way, he felt good. He finally felt as if he was starting to do good; starting to right his wrongs. He still had a long road ahead of him, but he had a feeling that he wouldn't be walking it alone.

* * *

**so, faye's been seeing spike solo, eh? and what about that kiss? bet we didn't see that coming (ha ha, yeah right). so needless to say, through all of the shit that spike and the crew have been through, there can still be some feelings after all. do you like this little plot point? why not review and tell me so? well then, thanks for stopping by. (ps, does anyone know what movie that line is from? just a little trivia for ya.) until next time!**

**-phoenix**


	22. I'm Not As Easy As I Look

21. I'm Not As Easy As I Look

_

* * *

_

_August 1, 2072_

_So I finally get to go home tomorrow. I'm glad that this place has cleaned me up, but I am more than ready to get the hell out of here. It hasn't be a walk in the park, getting over this addiction, but I've made it (for now, at least), and I'm ready to get out and get on with my life. And I'm glad that I have Jet and Ed and Faye with me. They'll help me out, I know they will. I owe them so much. And it's not like me to regret my choices, but in this case, I do. I want to, ya know, pay them back for what they've done. In my last therapy session, Arkin told me that the best way to repay them would be to stay clean and take care of myself. The quack is right, I guess. I'll do the best that I can._

_As much as I want to get out of here for obvious reasons, I'm also anxious to get out of here so I can see what's going on with me and Faye. I kissed her the other night and I'm not sure I've ever done something that felt so right before then. It's crazy to think that I might try this whole relationship thing again; we all know the last one ended like shit. But I got a feeling that this could be a good thing. A_ real _good thing. I don't know how I'm gonna be what she needs, but I'll try. She makes me want to try. Christ, it's ridiculous how someone can so drastically change they way you think and feel. Women tend to do that to a guy, though. Faye does that to me. And I'm okay with that, I guess. Worst things could happen…I could be part of a Syndicate again._

* * *

"I want to thank the families of today's graduates," Dr. Arkin summed up. "It has been a long, arduous few months, but I believe that all of our graduates have successfully conquered their addictions and their obsessive habits of which. I pray all of the graduates go with the grace of God, stay clean, and enjoy life through eyes unclouded. Thank you for all of your hard work." 

Dr. Arkin clapped for the 29 men and women that had successfully completed their stent in the detoxification center. He was glad to see them and their families rejoicing and planning for a healthy future. In the back of his mind, Dr. Arkin knew that at least eight of them might relapse, and one of them might die, as statistics showed; but he wasn't about to let numbers ruin the joyful occasion.

"So, let me see your diploma," Jet said, grabbing the paper out of Spike's hand. "'From the Tharsis City General Hospital Drug Rehabilitation and Detoxification Center, this diploma is presented to Spike Spiegel as congratulations for a job well done. On this day, August 2nd, 2072, said participant has successfully completed rehab and is now drug free.'" 

Jet read the certificate aloud and found comfort in the paper. He handed it back to Spike and pulled him into a classic Jet Black bear hug.

"I…I'm glad you're happy, Jet," Spike tried to say as Jet squeezed him tightly.

"Ed is so happy that Spike person is better and can finally come back to Bebop Bebop now!"

Ed danced around the room, hardly constrained by the dress that Jet had made her wear. She resisted the garmentgreatly at first, but when she compromised with Jet, to wear the dress but not wear shoes, Ed had gladly obliged the man.

"So what do you think about all of this, Faye?" Spike asked, turning to her and winking.

"Congratulations, cowboy," she said, beaming at him, a feeling of pride welling up inside of her. "So how does it feel to be clean and sober for, what is it, 64 days now?"

"Sixty-five," Spike corrected. "Not a lot in the scheme of things, but almost a lifetime if you ask me."

"Well, it's a good thing no one asked you," Faye cajoled.

Before she knew it, she was encased in Spike's comforting arms and with his lips lightly upon hers. She was taken aback by his willingness to show such affection for her, especially in front of a crowd of patients, doctors, and most of all, Jet and Ed.

"Jet person?" Ed questioned as she stopped spinning in her toes, "why are Spike person and Faye Faye kissing?"

"To tell you the truth, Ed; I have absolutely no idea," Jet answered as he chuckled at the scene in front of him. "We'll be waiting downstairs with the taxi, so don't you two take too long."

Spike released Faye from the kiss and watched as a delirious smile graced her pink lips. In that moment, he decided that he preferred the more natural look to her usually cherry red lips, though he wouldn't give up on the color all together.

"You're not supposed to take things that don't belong to you, Spike," Faye smirked as she deftly touched her lips.

"Well, Faye, I guess I'll just have to find some way to make you mine, then, won't I?"

"Hey, I'm not as easy as I look, bub," she griped playfully as she poked him in the chest.

"I figured as much, but I guess I like a good challenge."

The couple smiled at each other and Faye embraced Spike once again. For once in her life, after experiencing so many dark times, things were actually starting to look bright. As they separated from each other, Spike thanked Dr. Arkin one last time, took Faye's hand in his, and headed off for his new take on life.

* * *

Upon his arrival back to his home, backonto the Bebop, Spike was greeted with a "welcome home" sign, balloons, an excited welsh corgi, and that lobster dinner he had forgone those months ago. As the reunited foursome sat at the table in the common room, quintet if you included Ein, they hungrily dug into their meals and simply enjoyed being around each other again. There was no need for fancy dining rooms or expensive congratulatory gifts to soothe the beboppers. All they would ever need was just an old, yellow couch; an influx of bounty heads to capture; ridiculous, sarcastic humor; and each other, and they knew that they'd all be okay.

* * *

Later that night, when everyone had gone to bed, one person still remained awake. Spike Spiegel was more than relieved to be back in his own Bebop bed, but he was unable to sleep for some reason. He left his room and crept around the darkened hallways. He stumbled upon Ed, asleep with Ein on the couch, and draped a blanket over the two of them. He lightly ruffled her hair in her sleep, and even gave the little dog a quick pat on the head. 

He then passed by Jet's room and found the rolling hum of the older man's snore oddly comforting. He then found himself standing at Faye's bedroom door. Taking a breath, he turned the knob and entered her room. He silently closed the door behind him and made his way to her sleeping form.

She slept just the way he figured she would: tangled in the sheets with the comforter on the floor, hair a mess around her, and her mouth slightly agape. Spike wondered why he had never watched her slumber before; she was a different kind of beautiful like this. So vulnerable and innocent and practically care free; Faye imbued her hidden feelings in her sleep.

Spike kneeled by her bedside and just watched her for a while. He must have nodded of, though; because the next thing he knew, Faye's slender hand was resting on his cheek.

"I always figured you for a peeping tom," she frankly stated.

"Only when there's something good to peep at."

Though it was dark, Spike knew her face was tinged pink, and he reveled in being able to make her do so, so easily. He pulled her in for another one of those innocent kisses, and couldn't help but smirk to his self when he felt Faye's teeth nip at his lip, silently begging for a more.

"I thought you said you weren't easy, Faye."

When Faye bit his lip harder, Spike quickly recanted his statement.

"And by 'easy', I meant, 'so pretty'."

"Terrible save, Gorgio."

"I know, Romani."

He indulged her then and deepened the kiss. She tasted so sweet, he was sure he was in heaven. He was then surer than ever that this is what he wanted…_she_ was what he wanted. No more living in a dream, no more haunting images of a blond-haired angel, no more designs on death, and hopefully, no more addictions. Well, maybe he'd have _one_ addiction. But he was pretty sure that Faye wouldn't destroy him the way the heroin did, even though she now had the ability to do so with just a simple word of denial.

When they broke apart, Faye was crying again. He wiped her crystalline tears away and warmly smiled at her.

"As much as I hate women with attitude; I hate women with who cry all the time even more."

"Yeah, well; I hate men who are jerks, but that isn't keeping me from you, is it?"

He smiled at her again and melted into her embrace.

"So, are you gonna stay tonight?" She whispered into his ear.

"What'll you give me if I do?"

"Do you _always_ want something?"

"Well, I guess I'll settle with you, then."

"Hey!" Faye shouted, hitting him in the shoulder. "I am a prize and any man would be damn lucky to have me!"

"I guess I'm glad I'm 'any man', then," Spike almost purred to her as he climbed into her bed.

He kissed her again and effectively silenced her protest. He then pulled her body to his, amazed at how they fit so well, and rested her head on his chest.

"I actually _do_ have something for you, though," Faye mumbled into his chest.

"Really, and what would that be?"

Faye sat up and stretched her body over his as she reached under her bed. She pulled out a shoe box and sat it on the bed in front of her. Sitting cross legged now, Faye handed the box to him. Spike then sat up, took the box, and looked at her.

"I don't need any shoes, Faye."

"Just open the box, lunkhead."

Spike did as she asked and gasped at the contents.

"It's…it's my gun!" Spike said excitedly as he practically cradled his precious treasure. "Where in the hell did you get this?"

"I saw the receipt from the pawn shop when I was in your room one day. I…I went to the place and he still had it. He tried to cheat me and charge me double, but I showed him the receipt and he shut up and let me buy the gun back for 3.000. So, not only did I get you your dear gun back, I also paid you back those woolongs I owed you. Two birds with one stone has always been my motto."

Spike stared at her and was positive that she was the woman of his dreams. He was sure that he would never see his beloved Jericho again and he had begun to come to terms with that. But here he was, gun in hand, and he started to feel more right than ever before. Faye watched him, pleased with his reaction. She always felt a surge of excitement when she could render Spike speechless.

"I can't thank you enough for this. This gun really means a lot to me and…thanks," he breathlessly said.

"Of course, cowboy. Besides, how are you supposed to hunt if you don't have a reliable weapon?"

Spike put the firearm back into the box and placed it on the nightstand. He pulled Faye to him and thanked her with a kiss.

"G'night, cowboy. Welcome home," Faye whispered when they pulled apart, sleep tugging at her brain once more.

"Yeah, good night, Faye. Thanks for all of this."

She smiled as they lay back down, and drifted off to sleep. Spike stayed awake a little longer and listened to her breathing and reveled in her warmth. Minutes later, he followed her lead, and for the first time in a long time, he was at some kind of peace.

The whole of the Bebop had settled back into the normalcy that they had come to associate with the old ship. For once in as long as anyone could remember, the mismatched misfits that had convened long ago, where now a true family; forged out of tragedy and compassion and strength, and they would be as such, now and forever more.

* * *

**ya! spike's out of rehab and he's clean! and he's back on the bebop! and he and faye are really together! and he got his gun back! so much happiness in this chapter, it's ridiculous. but i'm sorry to say that we are coming to the end, my friends. just the epilouge left, and then that'll be it. it's sad, really, but all good things must come to an end. but not quite yet. so thanks for stopping by and until next time!**

**-phoenix**


	23. Epilouge: Some Thing Never Change

**whoa. so this is it. the last chapter. it's all gone by so quickly. a lot of ups and a whole lotta downs. come once more and visit the last few pages of the bebop, won't you?**

Epilouge: Some Things Never Change

_

* * *

_

_February 5, 2073_

_Well, it's been a while since I last wrote in this thing. I only have a few pages left, so I might as well fill 'em up. Where to start, then. Well, I'm still clean, first and foremost. It's been seven months and four days and I haven't even so much as looked at the stuff. Have I thought about it, though? Of course I have. For a while, I thought about it every damn day. But over time, I think about it less and less, but it still lingers in the back of my mind sometimes. I've never actually had heroin put in front of my face since rehab, and I actually fear what I'd do if that ever happened. I wanna say that if I ever saw it, I'd just walk away and not think about it at all, but I know that's just not true. I'd be tempted. Damn tempted, and even though I have all of these coping mechanisms and reasons _not _to do drugs ever again; I still know there's a chance I'd shoot up. But thankfully, I haven't been faced with that yet, and hopefully I never will, but I'm back to bounty hunting, and who knows what kinda shit we'll encounter with one of those bounty heads._

_On the topic of sobriety, I also quit drinking. Even though I didn't really do it much when I was strung out, I did drink a lot before _then_, you know; right after the showdown with Vicious and before that, too. But after the doc said my liver was kinda messed up, I decided not to chance it. I've been putting my body through the fucking grind for too many years, and I guess it's about time I start taking care of myself. I'm on some medication that helps out my heart. I still can't believe I messed that up. I'm also taking some stuff to help fix the damage to my liver.The doc says that the liver can regenerate, so hopefully it'll repair itself over time. Oh, and I'm still taking the methadone. Arkin says he'll try and get me off of it soon, but he just wants to be on the safe side. And that's okay with me, I'll stay on the stuff as long as I need too. Whatever keeps me clean. _

_And I've jumped on this "family" bandwagon lately, I guess. This ship of fools really is my family, and I don't think I'd have it any other way. I never really had good parents, and true friends were hard to find. But that's what these guys are: true friends and real family. I…I love 'em. Christ, I'm getting soft in my old age._

_But despite that fact that I think I'm getting soft, and the fact that I'm not sure if I could resist the forbidden apple if it was presented to me, I still know how to be strong. I _have_ to be strong, with a baby on the way. Heh, that's right…I got Faye knocked up. About two months after I got out of rehab, I took her out to dinner to thank her for how she's helped me, and when we came back home, Jet and the kid were out and one thing led to another, and well…you get it. She's five months now and a total bitch. But if anyone ever said that and I was within ear shot, I'd kill 'em where they stood._

_It's so insane to take all of this in. I'm gonna be a dad in a few months. I'm going to be responsible for another life. I can barely handle my_ own _life. But I got Faye. And we have Jet and Ed, and somehow, I'm sure that'll be more than enough._

_And I finally figured it out (though it wasn't really hard to do), that I'm in love with Faye. When I thought I loved Julia, I was willing to die for her. But loving Faye has proved my original thoughts on the word to be untrue. Love is not something to die for, no; love is something you live for. For Faye, I am willing to _live_ for her. Her and our kid. I wonder if she'll ever know that she's my sweet charade, my true escape to the reality I tried to dodge._

_I'm sitting in the common room on my favorite spot on the couch, and I can hear Faye yelling at Ed for something or other. She's in the room now and I still can't get over how fucking gorgeous she is. She's in a pair of old cotton shorts and my yellow shirt, and I don't think she's ever looked prettier. Her belly is rounding out and sometimes at night, I just lay my head on it and smile. It's so mind-blowing to know that my kid's swimmin' around in there, cooking till it's time to come out._

_So needless to say, I've been busy over the last several months. I've been making my life better and I've been repaying these guys with my sobriety and my overall sunny disposition (yeah right). But things are getting so much better and I'm finally happy with my life and where it's going. I'm finally starting to be happy with myself._

_Like I said, I know I'm not out of the woods when it comes to my addiction. And yes, I am still an addict. I learned in rehab that, just because I may never touch the stuff again, I will still always an addict. There is no cure for addiction, just positive ways to deal with the problem. I guess I can deal with it, though. Better to be a _recovering_ addict than a using one, I suppose._

_Even though I have no idea what the future may hold (who of us does), I have a good feeling that things are gonna turn out okay. We've all gone through some really dark times, some brought on by me, and now, I think it's only right that we get a break. Karma, or some shit like that. So, with my last few lines of this damned little book, I guess I'll wrap up this entry. I never could have imagined that when Faye made me start this thing, that I'd go through so much by the time I reached the last page, but looky here. And actually, there was a point when I was sure I would simply never make it to the end of this thing. Thank God I have._

_So, yes; we're all gonna be okay –_

"I swear to God, Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky IV or whatever you call yourself, if you don't get over here and tell me why you painted my nails neon green in the next 10 seconds, I'll make you wish you were back on Earth again!"

"Oohh, Faye Faye's mad, Ein. I just painted her nails like she asked Ed to!"

"Will you two keep it down! How in the hell am I supposed to relax and prune my trees if you're yelling so damn much!"

_I caught her eye and she gave me that smile that I love so much. She's my addiction. Heroin's got nothin' on her. But as I was saying, we're gonna be okay. After all, we're too screwed up _not_ to be._

* * *

Spike closed the green book that was now completely filled with his anguish anddespair, his hope and love, and smiled at his accomplishment. He hadn't meant to like this; writing in a journal and all, but it seemed like writing suited him well. In the back of his mind, he thought that he might actually turn that into a habit, but he pushed the thought aside as he rose to restrain Faye. A simple kiss was all it took, and calm was once again restored. No one could say how long it would last, but that was life, after all: unpredictable as hell. But these five strangers, turned family, had strapped in for the ride and were more ready than ever to take life as it came at them.

"ED!"

Some things, however, never seem to change.

_Fin_

_

* * *

_

**god, i can't believe it's all over! i was actually tearing up at the end of this. my brain child has fully made it's way to you, and it's a bittersweet moment, to say the least. but at least everything ended on a high note (definitely no pun intended). things still aren't 100, but they're getting there. so with the culmination of all of this, i just want to thank all of you wonderful reviewers! you defintely made posting this all worth it. you reviews were awesome and i'm gonna miss 'em, that's for sure. and for those of you who didn't review, i'm still glad that you read this! (though i would still love it if you dropped me a parting review!) i hope i kept everything entertaining and as true to the bebop essence as possible. well, that's it, i guess. i'll stop my rambling now. so for one last time, thanks for stopping by!**

**heart,  
****-phoenix**


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